The Nights We Remember
by livewiresandwildfires
Summary: Alex and Yassen don't have a conventional relationship, but neither of them really care. It started as a bit of irresponsible fun, but pretty soon they were living for the few moments they got when fate brought them to the same corner of the world. Rated T-M.
1. First

**The Nights We Remember**

 **Summary:** Alex and Yassen don't have a conventional relationship, but neither of them really care. It started as a bit of irresponsible fun, but pretty soon they were living for the few moments they got when fate brought them to the same corner of the world.

 **Warnings: Slash, age gap, bondage, injuries, strong language, use of drugs and alcohol, mentions of depression. (Each chapter will have its own set of warnings and ratings, but I think that should cover everything). Rated T-M.**

 **Note:** Alex is 16+ in these fics (age of consent). He never went to America and has been a spy since Scorpia Rising.

 **Disclaimer:** Alex Rider, his world and all associated characters and ideas belong to Anthony Horowitz. Any recognizable works are not my own. Any quotes, ideas, themes, etc. that I borrow from other authors or media should be credited to their original owners.

 **(A short prologue)**

 **Warnings: Slash**

 **Rated: T**

* * *

When someone so young gets involved with someone so many years their senior, there are a few preconceptions.

The older person is controlling, experienced and cunning. They know what their doing. Maybe they love the younger, or maybe they are taking advantage. To outsiders, taking advantage is the most likely scenario. And so, because the older person is experienced, maybe a little manipulative, and definitely cares less, they leave first. Always.

The younger person is innocent, inexperienced and sincere. They have no idea what they're getting into. Maybe they love the older, maybe they just think they do. To outsiders, it can't possibly be love. Infatuation, maybe. And so, because the younger is so new, more than a little naive, and definitely care more, they leave last. No exceptions.

They are the ones that lie in bed, while their partner sneaks away into the dead of night. They're the ones that stay until dawn breaks, while the older gets back to their life. Their family. Their job.

The younger person never has somewhere to be. The older person does. That's why these relationships never work out.

Despite what people might think, Alex was the first to leave. Not Yassen.

* * *

Yassen lay on the bed, thin duvet pulled barley up to his waist. He listened to little Alex shift beside him, stirring from his almost-sleep.

White light bathed the dark room. The screen of Alex's phone illuminating the small space. Yassen cracked an eye, spying the word 'General' on Alex's caller ID. The bank then.

He watched Alex's thumb skim over the 'decline' option before firmly pressing accept.

"Rider." The word was barely a breath on Alex's lips. If Yassen hadn't been so tuned in with the silence, he would have missed it.

A sigh escaped the boy. He clicked his phone off, and turned to look at the assassin lying behind him.

Yassen had kept his breathing even throughout the phone call, and continued to play possum. Whether or not it worked on someone as well trained as Alex didn't matter. Yassen felt the ghost of lips brush his forehead. Alex stood from the small, twin bed. Careful not to let the old bedsprings squeak.

Yassen had heard quite enough of the squeaky bedsprings in recent hours.

Keeping his eyes closed, Yassen let himself sense Alex's progress across the room. The cabin they were in was old and musty, but not a single floorboard creaked under Alex's weight.

He felt when Alex made it to the door. Sensed his hesitation. Yassen considered, for a moment, calling to the boy who had just shared the night with him. But what would he say? Stay? Yassen knew he couldn't ask more from Alex than what had been given.

And so, a stereotype died that day.

Yassen, with his life in his own hands, lay in a silent room, alone. With his career and missions available at his leisure, he had no reason to leave before dawn.

In contrast, Alex. With his life firmly in the grasp of MI6, he was at the beck and call of his government. Alex didn't get the choice to stay the night.

Yassen wasn't sure Alex would stay even if he could.

And so, despite what people might think, Alex left first.

Alex always left first.

* * *

 **AN:**

Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated, constructive criticism is welcome, but please be polite!


	2. Rain Check

**Warnings:** slash relationship, age gap, injuries, language.

 **Rated:** T

* * *

 **/Alex POV/**

Alex stumbled through the door of his dimly lit flat, not bothering to find the light switch. He made his way in the creeping darkness to his bathroom. Hopping into the shower, he turned the heat on high; letting the steam roll off his skin and fill the small stall.

The scent of beer and cigarettes was masked with the smell of hair wash. The feeling of sweat and grime was washed down the drain.

Alex stood there, carefully keeping his bandages dry.

When the stream of water started turning cold, he turned it off and grabbed himself a towel. He felt much better, rejuvenated from the shower.

Alex wandered into his bedroom, intent on getting a good night's sleep. Against his better judgement, he checked his phone first and found a text message - _I swear if MI6 is calling me in again I'll -_ it was from Yassen.

 _In London, July third to fifth. Come celebrate the birth of freedom and independence with me?_

 _-Y_

Alex laughed, finding the whole situation entirely too funny. Obviously, Yassen was aware that he had just gotten back from America- the land of the free. He'd just missed out on the Fourth of July celebrations.

It was nighttime on July third, Yassen would be at their usual spot. The assassin probably had a job to do, but Alex knew Yassen would change his schedule to match Alex's.

With a smile, he typed out a quick reply along the lines of _I'll be there soon_.

Then he paused, rethinking. He looked down, his shoulder was wrapped in gauze and his left arm had been broken. Alex was in no shape for whatever Yassen had planned.

 _Injured on mission. Rain check?_

 _-A_

* * *

 **/Yassen POV/**

Yassen's phone went off. Only a few select people had this ( _very secure, very secret_ ) number, and he knew who was using it.

Sure enough, he recognized the twenty-two digit number that lit up his screen. Naturally, he would never put Alex's name in his phone; just in case.

A frown passed over his face, just briefly, as he read the message.

He was tempted to ask Alex to come anyway, or even suggest that he go to Alex (despite the MI6 surveillance that littered the area). So far, the relationship between him and Alex had been little more than sex and pillow talk. But Yassen would be lying if he said he didn't have feelings for the boy.

While he was in the business of lying, he wasn't in the business of lying to himself.

As for Alex… well, Yassen had no idea. Not a clue how much this, he, meant to the boy. It could very well be just sex.

 _Rain check._

 _-Y_

He left it at a simple reply, allowing Alex to infer what he would from the short message.

Sitting on the bed, Yassen resigned himself to a lonely and boring night. He had no real work to do until his last day here, and needed to stay out of the way until then.

Yassen looked at his phone, stared at it, really. He should leave it at that, he didn't know if Alex would appreciate any show of sentiment…

Without giving himself time to debate, he typed another two, quick words.

 _Get better._

 _-Y_

Sending it off without stopping to think about it.

Let Alex infer what he would.

* * *

 **/Alex POV/**

 _Get better._

What did that mean? There were so many reasons that Alex hated texting, and this was one of them. If Yassen had said that to his face (which he never had, nor anything else like it) Alex had a good chance of knowing any hidden message behind the words.

But over text, reading people is damn near impossible. Especially world renown assassins with next to no emotions at all.

 _Ugh_. Alex was too tired for this, he needed a nap before he tried to psychoanalyze Yassen fucking Gregorovich.

* * *

 **AN:**

Reviews and constructive criticism is welcome, but be polite please.


	3. Time Management

**Warnings:** Slash, age gap, sex

 **Rated:** M

* * *

 **/Yassen POV/**

One thing Alex was very good at was time management. Yassen noticed this after they had met up a few times.

The first couple of nights they'd spent together had been hot and exploratory; neither in a rush, neither really wanting to think about what they were getting themselves into. Just a few, scattered long nights that bled into the morning disappearance.

But pretty soon, Yassen caught onto a pattern. Personally, he was very good at knowing when Alex was on a mission or fresh from the hospital - both cases meaning that an invitation from Yassen would result in a no. But he had no way of knowing when Alex would be called in.

He couldn't predict the future.

Alex did, however. Somehow he knew before the bank ever even called. Alex had it down to the minute.

The first time Yassen had noticed this, Alex had stormed into his safe house with no patience to wait. He didn't pause for any pleasantries, simply grabbing Yassen and pulling him to the bedroom.

Yassen remember that in the small bungalow the bedroom consisted of a mattress on the floor and nothing else.

Yassen also remembered Alex pushing him into the mattress, back first. Alex had made quick work of their clothes, but had kept his watch on; despite Yassen's complaint that it was cold against his skin.

Really though, he didn't think much of it. Alex glanced at the watch periodically, but he was a bit busy with other things to pay it much attention.

Alex had been quicker and rougher than usual, but neither of them had been any less thorough - and both had collapsed, utterly satisfied, to either side of the mattress less than a twenty minutes later.

Then Alex had glanced at his watch, sitting up at the same time as a cell phone rang. Digging into the back pocket of his jeans, Alex retrieved his cell phone. The caller ID displayed the name Royal and General Bank.

Alex accepted the call, saying nothing for half a minute before uttering a sharp, 'I'll be there soon'.

The boy got up swiftly, not even glancing at Yassen as he collected his clothes (that had somehow ended up all together in a pile, not strewn across the room like Yassen's). Alex had left seconds later, leaving Yassen on a mattress on the floor, wishing he would come back.

* * *

Not long after, Yassen had found himself in London. He had booked a hotel and sent Alex a cryptic message. The boy appeared less than ten minutes later.

Alex had clearly not been in a rush, engaging in foreplay and some cheeky banter. They'd showered together and took their time in the bedroom, Alex had been in a very good mood.

Nearly two hours later, Yassen had rolled away - still sweaty and panting and thinking they may need to revisit the shower. He'd managed to breath out an invitation for Alex to stay the night; Alex had smiled at him breathlessly, stating that he needed to go.

Not a second had passed before Alex's phone started ringing. The boy didn't look the slightest bit surprised as he raised it to his ear.

"Rider," he had stated, still looking at Yassen through thick eyelashes. "Oh," he'd continued after a pause, "you want me to come in? How unexpected." Alex's voice had been dripping in false shock; Yassen had to hold back from outright laughing. "I'll be there in ten."

Alex had thrown him a wink and collected his clothes. Then the young spy had disappeared for three weeks; Yassen had no idea where he'd gone until he got back.

* * *

At one point, Yassen and Alex had run into each other on a mission. Yassen paid to kill a man, and Alex there to decrypt and steal information from that same man's secure hard drive. They had come to an easy compromise, getting both their jobs done satisfactorily and in a timely manner. Yassen thought it was nice to work _with_ Alex for a change.

And of course, the victory sex was nice too.

They'd gone back to their car - black with tinted windows and leather upholstery. Yassen had pinned Alex down in the back seat, Alex gasping as the burning leather scorched his bare back.

Yassen deftly undid the boy's belt, shoving Alex's trousers and pants down to the knees. At the same time, Alex unbuttoned his black army trousers. Shoving them down until their skin was bare and tight against each other.

Yassen felt hot - he wasn't sure if that was from the scorching sun, or Alex.

Biting down on Alex's lip, a moan was passed through the boy's mouth and into his. They shared a few hot, stifling breaths - both struggling to get the air they desperately needed.

Alex reached up, grabbing Yassen's hip and pulling him down. Tilting his head, Yassen trailed his lips down Alex's cheek, his neck and collarbone, grazing the tender skin with sharp teeth. Alex shuddered, goosebumps appearing wherever Yassen touched.

The hand that had been cradling Alex's face shifted slightly. Warm lips parted against his fingers, and a soft tongue darted out. Yassen let Alex take his fingers into his mouth, groaning as the boy flicked his tongue expertly, slowly sucking.

Teeth closed gently around Yassen's fingers, a light nip to let Yassen know that Alex was done (and getting impatient).

He drew his fingers from Alex's mouth. Raised himself slightly above Alex to give himself room to maneuver his arm.

His hand drifted down, wrist trailing over Alex's chest and stomach. Then it came to rest just under the boy's navel.

Alex moaned, bucking restlessly. "Come _on_ , Yassen." Alex's warm body writhed underneath him. Yassen relished in the control it gave him before relenting.

His hand ghosted down Alex's inner thigh, spreading the boy's legs as far as the restrictive trousers would allow. Alex pushed his hips up to assist, Yassen murmured his appreciation.

Circling his finger slowly, Alex struggled to keep from pushing himself down. He used one hand to keep Alex still, pressing on the hollow of the boy's hip.

Alex brought one hand to tangle in Yassen's hair. Another dry palm came to rest on Yassen's side.

Yassen slowly pushed his finger in, eliciting a small growl from the smaller body below him. A movement of encouragement told Yassen to pick up the pace. He quickly slipped in another finger, and another after that, until Alex was arching off the sticky leather below them.

Taking his time to stretch Alex thoroughly - they didn't have any lubrication apart from the saliva - eventually deciding that he had taken enough time as it was.

Removing fingers, he maneuvered his hips squarely over Alex's. Pushing slowly and evenly, Yassen almost flinched as Alex's nails dug into his back. Fingers curling in his hair so tight Yassen thought they'd be ripped from his scalp.

Alex's breath stopped; Yassen felt him go perfectly still as he adjusted. Only when Alex took a deep breath in did Yassen move against him. Small, throaty moans filled the car.

Somehow, even in an encounter as unplanned as this, Alex knew exactly what he was doing.

Mere moments after both of them finished, Alex's phone started vibrating. Yassen grinned at the boy, who gave him a smack on the arm in return.

"That'll be '6." Alex told him matter of factly.

Alex pressed the door handle with his foot and kicked the side door open. He gave Yassen a quick kiss before wiggling out from under him.

Alex yanked his trousers up, securing his belt back in place. Answering the phone call just seconds before it rang out.

"I'll be there soon."

Picking up a dusty shirt from the dirt, the young spy had gone off to MI6's beck and call.

* * *

Alex and Yassen got together quite often. More often than either of their jobs should allow, at least. Yassen spent more time with Alex than anyone else.

Occasionally though, there would be nights; nights were Yassen lay in the dark cover of night, Alex long gone and the bed beside him growing cold. It was on those nights that Yassen wished - just once - Alex would stay the night.

* * *

 **AN:**

Please Review!


	4. Stay The Night

**Warnings:** Slash, age gap

 **Rated:** T/M

* * *

They stumbled through the dark; the shades were drawn and they had lost power in the small, backwater house not long ago.

The back of Alex's knees hit the low bed, sending them both tumbling to the mattress. Yassen brought one hand up, cradling Alex's cheek and promptly placed a kiss on the boy's lips.

Alex arched up into his touch, parting his lips slightly and letting out a low moan.

One thing Yassen loved about this was watching Alex come undone. The young spy had been learning to control his expressions, feelings, everything, for years.

But here, in this darkened corner of the world, Alex had the luxury of a soft noise here and there. The breathy, nearly inaudible noises that came from his bedmate sounded like they were just for him. No one else. No one else got to see Alex the way he did, and he relished in every noise.

Of course, Alex was a spy; and not a little boy anymore. He was a confident young adult, and given his life experiences, he was more than used to being the one in control.

Now, Yassen was used to the same thing, but he could indulge his bedmate. Sometimes.

Catching Yassen by the wrists, Alex flipped them over in one fluid movement. Positions reversed, Alex sat up enough to remove his shirt; one hand reaching over his shoulder to snatch a fistful of the material at the top of his spine, pulling it fiercely over his head.

Placing hands on Yassen's blue button up shirt, Alex slipped his fingers between the buttons. Light fingers brushed Yassen's sternum before Alex pulled sharply. His shirt came away in pieces, buttons clattering to the floor.

Alex grinned in triumph.

* * *

"Do you have time?" Yassen asked, though it was rare for Alex to hang around more than a few minutes. Unheard of for the boy to stay the night.

Alex tilted his head, arching his back against the mattress. He looked up at Yassen, face flushed and mouth parted to breath - it made Yassen want to kiss him all over again.

"A little," Alex answered.

With a smile, Yassen rolled to the side. Pulling Alex's hot, small body towards him. Alex's back pressed against his stomach. He wrapped his arms around the boy, a part of him hoping that if he held on tight enough, Alex wouldn't ever leave.

With his arms around him, he could feel the boy's every breath. Alex let out a small sigh of contentment, snuggling back against Yassen and closing his eyes.

He didn't move, simply enjoying the minutes they had together. Alex rarely showed any kind of weakness or softness - any emotion - so Yassen cherished the few times he did.

Against his chest, Yassen felt Alex slowly fall asleep. The boy's shallow breaths lulled him into a rhythm, and soon he was drifting off into a warm and content rest.

* * *

Yassen didn't hear the phone ring - didn't feel it vibrate or see it light up. But he felt when Alex shifted ever so slightly. The vice grip he had held Alex in loosened.

Cracking an eye, but otherwise not moving, he watched Alex reach for his cellphone.

"Rider," the spy whispered, being cautious of the assassin thought to still be asleep.

Yassen watched Alex bite his lip slightly. In the dim lighting, he could make out little of Alex's expression. But if he didn't know better, he would think Alex looked reluctant.

Alex glanced back at Yassen, who promptly feigned sleep.

"I'll…" _be right there_ , Yassen thought. That's what Alex always said. "I need the night off."

Alex ended the call, putting the phone on do not disturb and placing it face down on the bedside table.

Alex leaned forward on his arms, hands clasped, looking down at the mattress between his forearms. He scrunched his eyebrows together slightly - seemingly confused. Confused at why he had stayed? Or why he hadn't done it sooner?

A shake of the boy's blond head cleared his eyes. A sleepy look crossed Alex's face, and the boy shifted closer to Yassen under the blankets.

Shutting his eyes tight, Yassen felt warm arms wrap around his waist. He felt the soft brush of Alex's head tucking up under his chin.

"Go to sleep, Yassen," Alex muttered, snuggling closer.

Yassen responded by pulling Alex tighter. He felt Alex's breath even out.

He marveled at the beautiful boy resting against him. And as he drifted off to sleep once again, he thought he could never feel as pleased as he did right this second; Alex had decided to stay the night, and Yassen was as content as could be.

* * *

 **AN:**

As always, review!


	5. Halloween

**Warnings:** Slash, age gap, oral sex

 **Rated:** M

(Inspired by an episode of 'Scream' on Netflix)

* * *

Halloween is amazing. It's an opportunity for people to dress up; to hide their face and become someone they aren't, if just for a night.

Halloween breaks all the rules. Knock on a stranger's door? Stranger danger. Demand sweets? Of course not. Wander around the streets late at night? Never. Jump out at children? Who would do such a thing. Egg or TP houses? Blasphemy just to say it.

Unless, of course, its Halloween. Then all of these things are perfectly acceptable. Expected. The rules go straight out the window.

* * *

Halloween is awful. It's a time where anyone can be anything. Is the man in a hockey mask a serial killer? Or just a Jason Voorhees fan?

Halloween is awful. Police are overworked. People are out late, partying hard, guard down. Crime and vandalism skyrocket. People are perfectly vulnerable. There are a hundred ways to die on Halloween.

Halloween is an assassins best friend.

* * *

Lucky for the general populace, one particular assassin was not taking advantage of Halloween's opportunity to kill, maim, or otherwise cause harm to society.

No, Yassen Gregorovitch had much more important things on his plate.

 _Alex Rider._

For over a year now, Yassen has lived solely for the handful of hours he gets in Alex's company. For the few moments they can both take off, when fate happens to bring them to the same corner of the world.

Today was one such day.

Halloween is a very Americanized holiday, but that doesn't mean other places don't celebrate. Halloween didn't start in America, after all.

Rio De Janeiro, Brazil. A place where masks and costumes are worn, even outside of Halloween. Where people danced and sang in the streets. A place where one masked man bled into thousands.

That was precisely what Yassen was hoping for.

Yassen wandered down the packed streets, skillfully avoiding the rambunctious pedestrians. Everyone was in full dress; scantily clad women passed, towed by equally naked, drunken men.

Carefully, he made his way into the dimly lit building. A large, flashing sign labeled the place _A Estrela da Noite._

* * *

/Alex/

Alex slipped unnoticed into the _Estrela da Noite._ He'd grown, gotten older, but he wouldn't pass for clubbing age yet; even with the mask. He didn't want the hassle security would make if they saw him.

Quickly, he bled into the crowd. Slipping past the hordes of dancing bodies. He reached the far wall and skimmed the crowd.

His eyes landed on a tall man with a dancers body.

Alex took a second to admire the man he had come to see. Yassen sat, reclined on a sofa not far from where Alex stood. From here, it looked like Yassen was dressed completely in white. A beautiful tailored suit and a full face mask in a colour like a summer cloud. Then Yassen turned slightly, perhaps feeling watchful eyes on him. His mask, that looked wholly white from his angle, was actually split down the centre. One side pure white, the other as black as the night. His suit was the same, a perfectly straight line dividing his body in two. Like Ying and Yang.

Yassen caught Alex's eye, waving him over. Yassen was never the most expressive, but Alex felt at a disadvantage with the mask covering the assassin totally.

He reached Yassen, letting a smile grace his face.

Without a word, Yassen rose from his seat and took Alex's hand. He silently weaved through the crowd with Alex in tow, finding a dark, mostly empty hallway.

Following the hall, Yassen led Alex to a small and dimly lit room. Alex quietly locked the door behind them, striding towards the assassin.

Yassen had yet to say a word, Alex thought he might try to change that.

* * *

/Yassen/

Alex crossed over to him, stopping just short of the assassin. The boy leaned forward, lips brushing the cheek of his mask.

"This come off?" Alex asked, tapping the mask on Yassen's face.

He didn't reply, simply tilting his head and letting Alex draw deductions from that.

"Well," Alex smiled brightly, "guess I'll just have to find another place to put my lips…" Alex smirked up at him as he slowly lowered himself to his knees. Light hands brushed over Yassen's belt.

Yassen smiled beneath his mask, admiring the young blond kneeling before him. Alex was dressed all in black, with a traditional Mardi Gras half cape that billowed out around him.

His mask covered the top half of his face. It was a dull silver, intricately carved to resemble a wolf. Yassen recalled a story Alex had once told him, of his time with the SAS.

Alex certainly didn't resemble a cub now.

The boy leaned forward, the top tip of his mask brushing the shirt at Yassen's naval. He watched as Alex gripped his belt between sharp teeth, pulling it delicately from its loop. The boy gave a sharp tug, looking up at Yassen with mirth filled eyes.

He deliberately left his own mask on, but reached down to remove Alex's. He pulled the strap from Alex's long blond hair and let the mask fall to the ground.

That done, he let his hand rest in the soft locks. Alex quickly returned to work, no prompting necessary. His head tilted as he worked the leather from its buckle. Alex seemed to relish in taking his sweet time. Yassen had to keep a firm hold on himself, forcing himself to stay quiet and still beneath Alex's touch.

Alex finally freed the belt, turning his head to deposit the strap next to the wolf mask. He turned back to Yassen, giving him a sharp push to the hips. Yassen stepped back, pressing against the wall behind him.

Alex kept his hands on Yassen's waist, dipping his fingers into the waistband of his trousers. The boy leaned forward to capture his zipper between canines, pulling down with slow deliberation.

Right now, Yassen was very grateful that he still wore a mask. It was almost embarrassing how easily this boy could make him come undone.

His straining hard-on was finally freed as Alex shoved his pants to his ankles. The spy made good on his promise to find another place for his lips, brushing a kiss over the tip in a teasing manner.

Yassen bit his tongue under the mask, determined to keep up his vow of silence. He almost cracked when Alex leaned forward, taking him in one go without a moment's warning or hesitation.

Teeth brushed down his length, tongue exploring. Alex took him as far as he could - which was impressively far - before pulling back. Swallowing and sucking the whole way to the head again.

Hands came up as well, moving from his thighs to cup his balls. Gentle hands massaging around his base.

Yassen moaned softly at the stimulation - and Alex smiled in triumph around the heavy cock resting in his mouth.

He did his best to stay silent, but Alex was _shockingly_ good at this. He found his hands constantly tugging at blond hair and fought with himself to keep in control; to keep from thrusting into Alex's talented mouth or choking the boy.

Alex seemed aware of his struggle - constantly drawing him closer to the edge, but taking all the time in the world.

The boy seemed to relish in every sound that escaped him, no matter how small. Yassen couldn't even bring himself to mind, simply handed Alex the reigns and enjoyed the ride.

* * *

Yassen gasped heavily, looking at the sweetly mocking face that looked up at him. Alex sat cross legged, leaning back on the palms of his hands. Head tilted, smirking with a small bead of white dripping from the corner of the boy's mouth.

As he watched, Alex slowly licked his lips, wetting them and cleaning them in one go.

Yassen leaned down, tangling one hand in Alex's hair and grabbing the boy's wrist with his other. He meant to pull Alex up, but a sharp tug from the boy found him sprawling across both the floor and Alex himself.

Alex didn't laugh, didn't even smirk this time, but amusement radiated from every cell in his body.

Yassen righted himself slightly, moving so he was straddling the smaller body more easily. One hand still fisting blond locks, the other holding Alex's wrist on the floor by his head.

Finally, he took off his mask. Tossing it with their few other discarded articles.

He leaned down, covering Alex's mouth with his own in a not-quite kiss; it was closer to the kiss of life, really. They were simply sharing air. Then Alex pulled back, shutting his mouth and pouting slightly.

Yassen slipped his tongue out, probing it against Alex's stubbornly shut lips. Impatiently, he resorted to nipping at Alex's bottom lip - biting until he tasted blood.

Alex relented with a sigh, a gust of breath that Yassen felt all the way to the back of his throat. He pushed his tongue into Alex's mouth, tasting the salty-iron mixture of Alex's blood and sex.

Yassen swirled his tongue around, enjoying the small victory. Of course, Alex didn't often give without taking - one of the reasons Yassen had been surprised by how willingly Alex submitted earlier. Yassen really should have seen it coming, the sharp snap of Alex's teeth that resulted in a stinging pain on his tongue, a gush of his own blood mixing with Alex's.

Alex laughed into Yassen's mouth, using the hand that Yassen had pinned to flip them over. This time, Alex laughed openly at their reversal of situation. There was a small well of blood on his lip, and more dripping from his mouth. Yassen guessed that he looked similarly. Like a vampire.

Feeling pressure on his inner thigh, Yassen looked down to see Alex shifting his body. Lying both on top of him and between his legs. Yassen felt himself grow hard again.

Clearly Alex felt it too, if the other burst of laughter was anything to go by.

"I thought _I_ was the teenager here."

Looking up at the boy's wide, flirtatious eyes, Yassen felt frozen. Alex tilted his head, completely and shamelessly aware of the effect he was having.

Alex leaned down, placing his lips next to Yassen's ear. He felt the boy's soft, shallow breath - clearly aroused himself. After all that, Yassen had no idea how the boy wasn't bursting.

"That was fun, but I think it's time to go."

Huh, not what Yassen had expected.

He raised an eyebrow, "You don't want me to return the favour?"

The boy smiled flirtatiously, "Oh don't worry, you'll be paying me back tonight - all night long, in fact." Alex tapped the pocket of his black trousers. Yassen took the hint and emptied his own pocket - his trousers were still mostly wrapped around his knees.

He found a small, business-card-like piece of paper. It was utterly plain, with just a simple hotel name and room number.

 _El Amor de Tu Vida Hotel_

 _Room 749_

When Yassen looked up, Alex was long gone.

* * *

 **AN:**

Please review! Constructive criticism is always welcome, but be polite please!


	6. Come Anyway?

**Warnings:** Slash, age gap, injuries.

 **Rated:** T

* * *

/Alex/

Stumbling through the door of his flat, Alex immediately collapsed on the floor of his entrance way. He kicked the front door shut, listening to the automatic locks slide into place with a _shink_. Then he toed his shoes off, staring up at the blinding lights on the ceiling.

Breathing heavily, Alex clutched his chest with his one uninjured hand. Pain radiated from his three cracked ribs. Fumbling blindly, he wrapped his hand around a nearby object - possibly another shoe. Hucking it at the light switch, he was plunged into darkness.

In the back of his fuzzy, sleep deprived mind, Alex recognized that he was both hungry and in desperate need of a shower. Not to mention his bed.

Yet he was too exhausted to move another inch. The thought of cooking a meal or standing in a shower was mind numbing.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there, but it was long enough for him to fall asleep on the hardwood floor. Or maybe he blacked out. At any rate, when we woke up he was feeling much better. A few pain killers wouldn't go amiss - they tended to make him drowsy, but he should be going to bed anyway. He was pretty sure he had some pills in his bedside drawer, but his head was clearer and he thought he'd be able to make it to his bedroom, at least.

Unfortunately, with a clear head came a vivid imagery of the mission he just went through. Alex got the sudden, overwhelming urge to leave; get out of his apartment, get somewhere crowded. His doctor wouldn't approve, surely, but he had been alone for a long time, and as much as he disliked company, he hated the loneliness more. Even as drained as his body felt, he knew his mind wouldn't rest without a little help. Perhaps he could take a small dose of pain medication, then go for a walk until he felt a bit less high strung. Tire himself out a bit.

It took Alex a second to realize that light had flooded his small foyer. He blinked owlishly before scrambling his hand around, eventually finding his cellphone on the floor next to him.

 _In London, the usual place. Coming? -Y_

Feeling a burst of energy, Alex sat up carefully. Clutching his phone and ignoring his breathing problems (that had absolutely _everything_ to do with his ribs. Nothing else) he thought of his reply.

He really wanted to go. Seeing Yassen would be just what he needed. But yet… he probably wasn't up to anything Yassen had planned.

With regret, Alex typed a decline. Just one word, but it had happened enough times that Yassen knew the drill.

 _Injured. -A_

* * *

/Yassen/

Yassen sighed as he received Alex's message. He'd finished his work in London the day before and had stuck around, knowing Alex was due back soon.

Sadly, Alex often came back from missions injured and not up to any more… physical activity.

Yassen hadn't told the spy that he didn't want him to come over just for that. In fact, Yassen would be more than happy if they didn't do more than have dinner; sit on the couch and watch a movie. He just wanted Alex _there_ with him, as cheesy as that sounded. They rarely got the chance to see each other, and it was a pity to pass up an opportunity.

His internal rant must have struck a chord in him, because before he had consciously decided to, he was typing a reply to Alex.

 _Come anyway? -Y_

* * *

/Alex/

 _Alright -A_

Against his better judgment, Alex decided that after the mission he'd just gone through (absolutely brutal, isolation and _quiet_. Absolute and utter silence and no way to break it), he really didn't want to be alone. It was definitely worth the pain of travel.

He thought _maybe this is a bad decision_ when he tried to get up, ribs screaming in protest. Alex clenched his teeth and suppressed a whimper as he pulled himself to his feet. The trip to Yassen's hotel would feel long and painful, but it was less than a ten minute trip so he could handle it. He shuffled to his room and dry-swallowed some pain pills, hoping they would kick in quickly. Then, like a dog after a bone, Alex made his way to Yassen's hotel.

* * *

/Yassen/

There was a knock on his hotel door. Yassen rose from his spot on the sofa, crossing barefoot to the door. He unlocked it and swung it open - and stared in shock.

"What the hell, Alex?" Yassen exclaimed.

Alex widened his eyes in mock shock. "You sound like you aren't excited to see me. Which is weird since you're the one that invited me over."

Yassen shook his head, slightly dumbfounded, "Yes but- I wasn't expecting…" he trailed off, still staring at Alex in surprise.

The boy leaned against the doorframe, as if his own two legs couldn't support his full weight. Alex's left arm was wrapped from the base of his fingers to just below the elbow. There was a butterfly bandage pressed on Alex's forehead, holding together a cut that disappeared into his hairline, too straight and precise to be an accident. The bags under his eyes had gotten significantly darker since Yassen had last seen him - less than a month ago - and bruises patterned every inch of available skin. To top it off, Alex was holding his side like he couldn't breath.

"Come here," he said abruptly, grabbing Alex and supporting him the few steps to his couch. He kicked the door shut behind them and helped Alex get settled, pulling the shoes off Alex's feet and tossing them by the door.

"Ouch, okay. I'm fine Yassen, just-" Alex grimaced as he slowly lowered himself on the sofa.

"You are absolutely not fine." Alex's shirt had hitched up, revealing a row of bandages over his chest. "What the hell were you thinking? Coming all the way over here?"

Alex tilted his head, "You asked me to? I did tell you I was hurt."

"Alex, this-" he gestured at the boy sitting next to him, "isn't 'injured'. You look like you were hit by a train."

"Well actually…" Yassen felt his eyes widen slightly before realizing Alex was kidding. "Listen, it's fine," Alex continued, "I didn't want to be alone tonight anyway."

Yassen still frowned. He didn't like the idea of Alex stumbling around in such a state. "Next time, I'll come to you."

Alex raised his eyebrows, "There's a reason I always come to you in London. Big Brother is always watching."

He rolled his eyes "I think I can handle a little MI6 surveillance."

"And _I_ can handle a ten minute walk."

"You _walked_ here? Alex!" Alex gave a small shrug in way of apology. Yassen sighed in defeat, reclining back next to Alex.

Alex shifted against him, groaning quietly. They sat in silence for a moment before Alex moved. The boy slipped down Yassen's chest, letting his head rest on Yassen's lap and bringing bare feet up on the couch cushions.

"I'll be honest," Alex said, looking up at him. Yassen caressed a hand through soft, slightly grimy locks. "I'm not really sure what to do when we aren't… you know. Going at it."

Yassen snorted. "There were _so_ many better ways you could have put that." Alex chuckled, then winced and grabbed his stomach. "Anyway, you aren't up to much tonight. You could probably use a shower though."

Alex moaned in overexaggerated despair. "That involves _standing up_."

"You walked all the way over here, you can't stand up for three minutes?" Alex bit his lip, containing a smile. "Come here, I've got you."

Wrapping arms around Alex, carefully avoiding his ribs, he helped the boy to his feet. Hobbling slowly into the bathroom, Yassen thanked his lucky stars that he'd booked a penthouse suite - with the huge bathroom and shower that came with it.

* * *

/Alex/

Alex compliantly allowed Yassen to lead him to the bathroom. He winced as his bare feet hit cold tile, but Yassen flicked a switch and soon the floor was heating under him.

Yassen propped him against the sink. Wordlessly, the shower was turned on - Yassen holding a hand under the stream to test for heat.

Once satisfied, the assassin turned back to him. Careful hands pulled Alex's clothing away. Shirt and jeans and jacket and underwear fell to the tile floor.

Alex let Yassen do as he pleased - it wasn't exactly the first time he'd been undressed by the other man. A part of him expected some kind of sexual advance, but Yassen was thoroughly professional.

In fact, Alex was surprised to notice, the gentle hands and soft touches were rather close to caring.

He and Yassen had never had a _loving_ relationship. Alex knew Yassen cared about him, probably more than anyone else in the world. Alex himself had been a bit slower, but he cared about Yassen too. Love on the other hand… Alex was a bit more cautious about that. With their jobs, Alex had never expected more than a casual arrangement between the two of them. But maybe…

"Okay?" Yassen asked, helping Alex towards the shower when he received a nod.

Strong hands helped him over the small shower edge. Yassen didn't even bother removing his own clothes, allowing his white t-shirt and black jeans to become completely sodden under the stream. Alex had a sudden (and not entirely unpleasant) image of the assassin partaking in a wet t-shirt contest.

The warm stream of water hit his back, loosening his muscles. Alex felt the grime and sweat fall away, along with some of the tiredness and stress he had felt; he found himself in a state of quiet contentment.

He couldn't even bring himself to worry about wet bandages. Instead, he let himself be lulled by Yassen's warm, wet touches. A sweet but unidentifiable smell surrounded him as Yassen opened a bottle of body wash. Warm hands rubbed and scrubbed the dirt from every inch of him - the assassin was remarkably thorough.

Slow, meticulous hands unwound the bandages at his chest, then his arm. The damp ball of ruined bandages was tossed blindly out of the shower. Yassen squeezed a handful of the body wash out. Gently running hands over Alex's torso - not scraping or scrubbing at his damaged ribs, just a gentle, flowing touch.

The sticky black residue from the bandages wilted off his skin, leaving Alex's skin soft.

The heat of the shower rose up in clouds of steam, mixing with the scented body wash - it produced an effect akin to aromatherapy, causing Alex to feel drowsy. His pain medication must have kicked in, as a cloud of drugged tiredness settled over him. His eyes started to dip shut, but he snapped them open; he trusted Yassen, of course he did - but he was hesitant to show _quite_ so much weakness.

Yassen traded the body wash for a black bottle of shampoo. The man poured out a liberal amount.

Alex swayed slightly, still holding his eyes stubbornly open. The noise of the falling water was soon drowned out by the gentle roaring in his head.

Staring up at Yassen, Alex watched his chiseled lips move, forming a sentence. The noise was lost to him, and he was far too tired to try reading lips.

An exasperated look passed Yassen's face - he said something again, looking even more exasperated when the meaning went over Alex's head.

Tilting Alex's chin up with one shampoo covered hand, Yassen leaned forward. He watched with detached confusion as the assassin pressed gentle lips to his forehead. The lips falling over his sensitive skin.

Alex fluttered his eyes shut just as Yassen's lips brushed over his eyelids. The light pressure was removed, only for a quick kiss to be placed on the opposite eyelid.

Now that his eyes were shut, he found it overwhelmingly difficult to open them again.

* * *

/Yassen/

He watched Alex slowly drift out of alertness, swaying slightly in the stream of water. Keeping a steadying hand on the boy, he placed the body wash down and grabbed the shampoo and poured some into his palm. Spreading the viscous liquid between the fingers of both hands.

Looking back, he examined Alex's tired face. Light purple smudges under the eyes. Alex's eyes themselves were wide open, water dripping into them from sodden fair locks.

"Close your eyes," he suggested, not wanting to get shampoo in them.

Alex just stared at him blankly, head tilted. _Wow, Alex must really be exhausted._ He calmly repeated himself, getting no more reaction than the first time.

Sighing with exasperation - though he was equally amused - Yassen took the problem into his own hands. Well, onto his own lips - his hands were a little sudsy with the shampoo.

Pressing a light kiss to Alex's forehead just below the butterfly bandage, he let his mouth drift lower. He felt the brush of damp eyelashes, then Alex's eyes closed shut.

He let his kiss linger, firmly keeping the boy's eye shut. Shifting slightly, he peppered Alex's other closed eyelid with a kiss as well.

Satisfied that Alex would keep his eyes shut, he placed his hands on the boy's head. Lathering the soft hair, he felt Alex subconsciously lean into him.

He let his nails graze Alex's scalp, feeling the tremor sent through the boy's body despite the warm water.

A quick lather, rinse and repeat and Yassen was content with the results.

Reaching past Alex, he shut the shower stream off. Alex moaned at the loss, stumbling forward, probably attracted to Yassen's body heat.

He wrapped protective arms around the boy, pulling him close.

"Ready for bed?" He mumbled into Alex's soft wet hair.

He got a throaty moan in response.

He dragged Alex out, feet coming into contact with the heated tile. Snatching a soft towel from the rack, he dried Alex off quickly.

Ignoring his own sopping clothes, he led a half asleep teenage spy to the grand bed. Lifting Alex bodily, he tossed the boy onto the blanketed bed. Alex rolled onto his front, one arm up by on the pillow and the other tossed to the side.

Yassen smirked at the boy, so comfortably resting while stark naked. With a silent laugh, Yassen stripped his own dripping clothing off and tossed it to the ground. Taking the towel he'd used to dry Alex, he wiped the residual water off himself.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, he went to fetch the medicine kit. Returning to Alex's side, he gave the near-comatose boy a nudge.

A deep mumble, and then Alex turned over. Yassen smirked, then blushed in a very out of character way. He was thankful Alex's eyes weren't open to see it. Grabbing a handful of blanket, he tugged it up to Alex's waist. The boy smirked unashamedly, opening his eyes to small slits.

"Going to need to re-wrap those bandages." Yassen pulled Alex up to a sitting position. Placing a light hand on the boy's chest, he felt for the damaged ribs. Feeling a wince from Alex, he knew he'd found the right spot.

He tightly bound Alex's chest and arm, then replaced the bandage on Alex's forehead. Alex was near collapsing by the time he finished.

After lowering Alex to the mattress, Yassen grabbed some clothes from his duffle bag. He tugged on a pair of boxers and sweatpants, and dressed Alex similarly. The boy mumbled and protested, but let Yassen handle him without much fight.

"Ready for bed then?" Yassen asked.

Alex looked at him with half lidded eyes. Then, instead of answering, Alex pushed up from the bed with a sudden burst of energy. A surprisingly strong grip latched onto Yassen's wrists and pulled. Taken by surprise, he fell forward.

He managed to catch himself, bracing his arms on either side of Alex's body.

"Let's sleep," Alex slurred slightly, wrapping arms around Yassen's neck.

Yassen squirmed, shifting the blankets to cover him and his bedmate. He pulled Alex closer; meek arms were stretched towards him, soft fingers intertwining in Yassen's hair. Lightly calloused fingers ran down his neck and came to rest on Yassen's collar bone.

Just like that, Alex's breath evened out. Occasionally, the boy's chest would shudder from the pain of bruised ribs, but Alex mostly slept peacefully.

Yassen kissed the top of Alex's still damp head, settling back into the pillows. He admired the young spy resting at his side and took a moment to muse.

He had the sneaking suspicion that he had fallen for the boy. But… Alex let out the smallest puff of air, sighing and smiling slightly in his sleep. Maybe falling wouldn't be such a bad thing.

* * *

 **AN:**

Reviews are always welcome! Thanks for reading!

I'm starting to run low on my pre-written chapters, I've got a couple more. If you have any ideas, leave them in the reviews!


	7. I'm Hooked

**Warnings:** slash, age gap, mentions of prostitution.

 **Rated:** T

* * *

Yassen hadn't expected quite so many people to be out on the streets. After all, it had barely been a full day since a widely known politician had been shot just a few blocks from here.

Yet, Yassen found himself in the annoyingly mundane situation of being stuck in traffic. Apparently the 'city that never sleeps' really did live up to its name.

Drumming his nails on the steering wheel, he looked around for a possible cause of the traffic jam. Not far ahead of him, he saw the culprit.

A stretch limousine had been driving in the farthest lane from the sidewalk, but had clearly seen something to peak its interest. The limo was stretched across three lanes of traffic, parked with its nose next to a group of strippers and prostitutes.

Cars were bottled up trying to squeeze from four lanes of traffic to the mere one that was left. Many of the hookers had wandered into the street to take advantage of the stranded drivers. Parading their services from car to car.

Yassen moved to close up his windows, which were open to the summer breeze. He didn't want to invite any of the streetwalkers to come and harass him.

"Looking for a little company tonight?" Too late.

Yassen turned to tell the hooker to get lost, but came to a crashing halt when he caught sight of familiar brown eyes.

Alex was leaning on the edge of his open window, black lined eyes flashing mischievously. His blond hair was spiked in an artfully messy manner, and was quite a bit longer than the last time their paths had crossed.

The young spy wore a ripped black t-shirt that he could only get away with in a summer as hot as this. The piece of mutilated fabric looked as if it had gotten jammed and yanked from a paper shredder.

"How much?" Yassen asked, playing along.

Alex tilted his head, "Oh, nothing you couldn't afford I'm sure. What's the price of information, nowadays?"

Yassen considered. Alex must be on a mission of some kind - one that the teen believed he had the answers to. It wasn't a difficult jump to make; the politician he had assassinated yesterday had had a certain fondness for young, blond, male streetwalkers. Alex certainly fit the bill.

The real question was what information Alex was looking for. Just seeing Yassen here would have been enough for the spy to put the pieces together. Alex must know that the assassination was done by his hand. What more was there to know? Perhaps the politician had some information that Alex had needed? Yassen hadn't interrogated the man…

Besides, as often as the two of them got together - both on and off duty - they did their best to keep work talk to a minimum. The fact that Yassen was an assassin and Alex a spy would always loom over them, and there was little they could do but ignore it. Now Alex was asking to bring their work to the bedroom…

Yassen made a quick decision - the decision he would probably always make. Leaning over, Yassen tossed the passenger side door open. Alex slipped in, sitting next to him without bothering to buckle up - they weren't going anywhere fast, the limo up ahead was just attempting to pull out.

They waited patiently. Alex shifted towards Yassen and ran a hand up his thigh. He suddenly felt the urge to get to his hotel as quickly as possible.

The limo finally made its escape, and traffic returned mostly to normal. They drove past the group of hookers lined up on the street, all dressed in trashy garb similar to Alex.

Yassen drove with blinders on, getting to his upper class hotel in minutes. Alex moved to throw the door open, but Yassen stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"There's no way you're walking through the hotel lobby looking like that," he stated, eyeing Alex's outlandish costume.

Alex tilted his head, spiky hair bouncing. "So what, you wanna do it in here? I'd hate to ruin these leather seats." Alex licked his lips in a blindingly suggestive manner.

"I was thinking back door, actually."

Alex smiled wide and gave him a quick kiss, exiting the car and looking around. When he was satisfied that no one was around, the young spy walked confidently around the building. Yassen followed, hearing his car chirp shut behind him.

Alex led the way, knowing that Yassen would have booked the penthouse. Not because he wanted luxury, but because he wanted the luxury of peace of mind. A penthouse didn't share walls with anyone else - less chance for someone to eavesdrop. It also gave him a good view, and if necessary, a place to land his helicopter on the roof.

The king sized bed was simply a bonus.

By the time he caught up with Alex, the boy was leaning against his room door. Fingers fiddling with the holes of his tee shirt, fraying the edges. Alex didn't move as Yassen approached to unlock the door, and in fact was very much in his personal space. He could feel Alex's body heat and breath. Not that he was complaining.

With the door open, Alex stepped back into the room. Yassen followed, eyes flitting instinctively towards the grand bed in the centre of the room. But Alex ignored it, instead opening the door to the en suite.

"I'm going to take a shower," Alex stated plainly.

Obviously, not what Yassen was prepared for. "Why?" Was all he could think to ask.

Alex scrunched his nose up, giving him a look. "You think I like having this gunk in my hair?"

He looked at Alex's artfully mussed hair, clearly held in place by copious amounts of gel. "I think it's a good look."

Alex glared. "It's sticky."

Yassen refrained from commenting on the innuendo - a number of jokes sprung to mind, all of them rather juvenile. Clearly, he was spending too much time with Alex.

"Well, enjoy yourself then."

"I'd enjoy myself much more if you joined me," Alexa offered, "I promise we can make use of that bed later."

Yassen smiled, a number of dirty thoughts crossing his mind. But, he reasoned, showers were meant to wash away the dirty things…

* * *

It was an hour later, skin raw and pink from hot water, that found Alex and Yassen relaxing on the ginormous four poster. Tall windows opened to the hot summer air. Blankets pushed into a bunch at the foot of the bed, so just the thin sheet covered them to their waists.

Yassen was lying on his back, propped up on a mound of pillows. Alex lay on his front, leaning on his elbows at Yassen's side. The boy was tracing soft fingers in a pattern over Yassen's stomach - seemingly endlessly amused by the images only he could see.

They didn't speak for a long time. Yassen was content to try and decipher the images being trailed over his skin; mostly an abstract mess, but occasionally he recognized a flower, a sun or a bird. Sometimes Alex traced his name, or stray words in different dialects. The silence continued until Alex traced a circle over his abdomen, marking two exs and a curved line inside: an ex eyed smiley face.

Then Alex looked up and said, "I'm not a fan of mixing business with pleasure, but I'm afraid it might be inevitable."

Yassen tilted his head, looking down at the spy. "Work doesn't have a place in the bedroom, Alex," he chastised lightly. It was one of their few rules.

"If things had gone differently, I'd be doing my work in someone else's bedroom. I think we can make an exception this once."

"You planned on getting picked up by the politician?" The idea of Alex soliciting sex for a mission made his stomach churn. He wondered if the spy had ever done it before…

"Yeah," Alex answered, "chances were that he would end up the next mayor. CIA wanted to get some dirt on him, force him to step out of the running." Child prostitution would certainly be enough.

He nodded, reaching a hand out to brush away damp locks from Alex's forehead. "Well, the CIA don't have to worry about that anymore."

"No kidding," Alex snorted. "We found out about the assassination yesterday, but the CIA decided not to pull me out yet. I'd already established my cover, and they wanted to see if I could figure out who did it."

Yassen wondered what Alex meant by 'established his cover', but decided not to ask.

"So was it you?" Alex asked, down to business.

Obviously Alex already knew the answer, so he didn't see the harm in confirming it. "Yes."

"Why?" Alex's eyes looked shiny, reflecting the light from the windows. Yassen got the feeling that there was a right or wrong answer to this, and he wasn't sure what would happen if he got it wrong.

"Apparently, he got rough with one of the working class boys. Unfortunately for him, the boy happened to be an underaged run away of a rather powerful man upstate. The boy was sent to the hospital, and he died a few weeks later. His father called me."

Alex nodded thinking. Then, with slow deliberation, pushed upward to plant a kiss on Yassen's lips. Soft tongue probed at his lips, which parted happily. Alex shifted up, pulling the thin white sheet around him as he moved to straddle Yassen's thighs. He deepened the kiss, a low growl emitting from his throat.

Yassen guessed that he'd had the right answer.

* * *

 **AN:**

Thanks to everyone that's been leaving reviews! They really do make my day, so please keep it up!


	8. All Tied Up

**Warnings:** Slash, age gap, bondage, injury.

 **Rated:** M

* * *

Alex lay against Yassen's chest, humming a cheerful tune. Yassen smiled idly, carding a hand through Alex's blond locks; twisting strands of it and watching the evening sunset turn his hair to gold.

He pressed a kiss to Alex's temple. The boys skin was warmed from the sun rays falling through the floor to ceiling windows. After a few minutes, he could feel Alex drifting off. The humming slowed to an idle tune, then came to a stop. Breathing slowed, Alex's chest rising and falling rhythmically. Yassen consciously slowed his own breath, so as not to wake his bed mate.

Pretty soon, lulled by Alex's soft sleeping noises, Yassen drifted off as well.

Yassen woke up tense, though not entirely sure why.

His first thought was that someone must have broken in; he had security a plenty, but for good reason. Someone breaking in was a very real possibility. But after casting his senses out, listening hard, he concluded that the only people in the room were him and Alex.

Then he focused on Alex's breathing - harsh and staccato. Ah, he thought, nightmare.

Not the first time Alex had been plagued with bad dreams, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. As had become customary, Yassen simply shifted slightly, hugging Alex closer to his chest. He had quickly learned that it didn't take much to wake the young spy.

Surely enough, the small movement was enough to bring Alex back to the land of the living. Brown eyes blinking in the silver moonlight. Alex made a soft noise of confusion, before tensing up and turning to look at Yassen.

"Sorry," Alex whispered, "I didn't mean to wake you."

Yassen smiled and pressed a quick kiss to Alex's cheek. "It's fine. Do you want to talk about it?"

Alex subconsciously rubbed his wrists. The white scars circling his wrist like bracelets stood out starkly in the dim light. Yassen had matching marks, but not near as many or as deep; assassins didn't get in he same situations that spies did. They didn't get as close or as involved with their targets.

"It was just... my last mission. Was a bit rough." Alex averted his eyes, twisting his wrists and massaging the tendons.

"Did you get caught?" He asked, taking Alex's fidgeting hands and examining the fresh scabs.

Alex nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, on purpose, actually. Figured it would be the easiest way to get into the base, but getting out of the ropes was a little harder than I anticipated."

Yassen kissed the marks on his bed mates wrists. "Have you been seeing anyone?" Yassen knew how Alex felt about psychiatrists, but now that Yassen thought about it, Alex had been having nightmares more frequently than usual.

"A bit... it never seems to help much," Alex said, "They just say crap like 'try facing your fears' or 'work on replacing your bad memories with better ones' and 'talking about it helps'. I don't see how, though."

Yassen frowned thoughtfully, but said nothing. Soon enough, Alex was drifting off into a much easier sleep; Yassen stayed awake a little longer, thinking. He wished Alex didn't have to leave in the morning...

* * *

Alex had only just got back from five days over seas.

Yassen pushed Alex against the wall, pinning the boy by the hips. Alex leaned forward to capture his lips, sharp teeth pulling him closer.

With one hand, he grabbed the button on the top of Alex's jeans and gave a quick jerk. Leaving the boy's fly undone, he moved to Alex's t shirt. Grabbing the hem, he yanked upwards. Alex lifted his arms to assist - then hissed in pain.

Yassen stopped, looking questioningly at his partner.

"I hurt my shoulder, on a mission," Alex said with heavy breath. "So, no arms above my head today."

"Pity," Yassen mumbled. That certainly put a damper on his plans… but it wasn't a deal breaker. He reached into the knife holster strapped to his calf and pulled out a razor sharp blade. Not giving Alex a moment to protest, he dragged it across the material of his shirt.

The fabric came away from Alex in ragged shreds.

"I liked that shirt," Alex protested.

Yassen hummed in response, kicking the torn fabric away. "I promise, you'll like this more." He slipped his fingers down Alex's open jeans, running them along an already prominent erection.

Alex moaned lightly, pulling Yassen by his belt loops until they were pressed together, pushing into his touch. All annoyance forgotten, replaced by pure lust.

"Take me to bed?"

Yassen obliged happily, grabbing Alex's hips and pushing him up the wall. Alex wrapped his legs tightly around Yassens waist, placing arms securely around Yassen's neck.

Teeth grazed his neck as he carried Alex into the next room over. The assassin laid Alex down carefully, mindful now of the boy's injuries.

Climbing onto the bed, he leaned over Alex and stole a quick kiss. Slipping his fingers down the boy's waistband, he shucked Alex's jeans and boxers down, tossing them to the floor and leaving Alex completely naked. He sat up, resting on his knees above Alex. Yassen watched Alex's careful reactions as he towered over him. Slowly, not in much hurry, Yassen started removing his own clothing. Shirt, belt, trousers, pants all found their way to a neat pile on the floor. Alex watched the whole time, twisting his hands in the sheets, not uttering a word.

Leaning down, Yassen pressed their lips together and pushed an arm under Alex's back. He pulled the boy farther up the bed, letting soft blond hair rest on the pillow in a golden halo. He felt a pair of hands clasp together at the small of his back.

His skin felt hot, and he was gasping for air now. Alex shifted beneath him, his thigh pressing into Yassens crotch. He stifled a moan.

Kissing down Alex's face and neck, he made his way down the boy's chest. Hands went from his back to being tangled in his hair. As Yassen moved lower, the hands fell away completely, lying next to Alex's head, fingertips just under the pillow.

Letting out a warm breath over Alex's erection, he heard a sharp intake and then a small yelp of pain. Looking up, startled, he saw that Alex had pushed his arm too high up the bed, irritating his injury.

* * *

/Alex/

Hot breath surrounded him, sending a jolt of lust all the way up his body. His heart constricted and his mind went blank. He reached up the bed, hands sliding under the pillow as he tried to find something to hold onto - something to ground him back to reality.

His fingers wrapped around an object just as his shoulder protested. Yanking his arm down, he could feel Yassen's eyes on him.

He shifted so he was sitting up slightly. His hand was still tangled in whatever had been under the pillow, so Alex opened his eyes to investigate.

The first thing he saw was Yassen's flushed face - blushing? Then he looked at his hand and found himself holding… a length of rope. Not the rough, twine kind that Alex had had experience with before; no, this was soft, almost velvety rope that someone might use for-

"What's this?" Alex questioned.

Yassen gave him an all too innocent look, "I thought it would help."

"Right… You were going to tie me up?" He asked, though he didn't really need an answer. Yassen's half guilty, half mischievous look said it all.

"Well, not anymore," Yassen lowered himself a little and darted his tongue out; hot, wet pressure lapping over Alex's head. His mind went blank again, and he lost track of the conversation. "Not while you're arm hurts, anyway."

"Where you going to ask first?" Alex wondered out loud. Not that he'd have said no; Alex would let Yassen do damn near anything and the assassin knew it.

Yassen crawled up so they were face to face, cocks brushing against each other. "Of course. Really Alex," Yassen continued when Alex gave him a disbelieving look.

Alex smirked, "Would you let me tie you up?"

"Yes." Yassen answered without a moment's hesitation, which surprised Alex a bit.

"Okay then." Let's test that.

Alex grabbed Yassen by the shoulders, flipping them so he was on top. He ignored the slight twinge in his arm as he wrapped the rope around Yassen's proffered wrists. The assassin gave him an amused look.

Going up on his knees, he leaned over Yassen to tie his arms to the headboard. He felt Yassen gently bite his thigh as he leaned past.

He secured Yassen's wrists tightly, though Alex knew it was more for show than anything. The rope, Alex noticed, was thin enough that Yassen would surely be able to break it. If Alex had noticed the fragility of the bond, Yassen certainly had as well - it was probably why the assassin had chosen it.

Alex trusted Yassen, and was more than willing to submit to his bedmates will. That said, both Alex and Yassen knew that he would be more comfortable knowing he could end the charade whenever it became uncomfortable. Even with the tables turned… Alex didn't doubt Yassen took comfort in the ability to break free, should the need arise.

However, judging from the look in his eyes and the anticipation running through his body, Yassen didn't seem eager to end Alex's reign of power.

He leaned back to admire his handiwork, and couldn't help but smile. He thought maybe Yassen was right, it might a bit unconventional, but it also might just help.

And if not, it certainly wouldn't hurt.

"Well," Alex stated, "that's that. All tied up, and nowhere to go."

* * *

 **AN:**

Please review! I love to hear from you!


	9. Late Night Trouble

**Warnings:** Slash, age gap, injuries, alcohol, gang violence, beating.

 **Rated:** T

*inspired by a couple of fanfictions that I can't remember the name of - if you recognize anyone else's works, I disclaim*

* * *

Alex couldn't tell if the water running in rivulets down his face was the rain, or tears.

He lay there on the side of the road, one hand dangling over the curb and trailing in the rush of water heading to the drain. When he managed to coax his eyes open, he realized it wasn't just tears and rain. There was blood; his own, mostly. Red, the colour of rust and fire and Jack's long hair.

Rolling over, Alex let the rain fall directly on his face. Washing away the grime of the pavement and the horrors of the night. Gravel that was pressed into his cheek fell away. Maybe it would give him an ounce of clarity, the rain - his head felt foggy and stuffed.

It didn't work as well as he'd hoped it would.

He needed a plan. The part of his brain that was still fully functioning told him to make a plan. As if it was that easy. _Thanks brain, you're a real life support right now._

He rubbed his crying eyes with the palms of his hands, stopping to look at his bruised and bloody knuckles. Then he pushed himself into a semi sitting position - better than lying prone in the gutter - and took stock of his situation.

The situation was _deplorable._ And Alex didn't use that word lightly.

None of his wounds were very deep - that was good. Most had even stopped bleeding and the rain was just washing away dried patches of blood from his clothes and skin. Again, good.

The bad part - the _deplorable_ part - of the situation was sitting to his left, just out of arm's reach.

There was tears. There was rain. There was blood.

There was also vodka. Dripping steadily from the mostly empty bottle. Mixing with the rain. Alex could just smell its pungent odour over the salt of his tears and the freshness of the rain and the metallic scent of blood.

He could feel the burning rush of alcohol in his veins. Impairing his systems and clouding his thought process.

Alex didn't drink. He hated it, he hated the loss of control that came with it. When Alex wasn't completely in control, people died; he couldn't have that - the guilt of people dying because of him. He hated drinking.

The people he was investigating, however, _loved_ drinking. Booze and drugs and girls and guns. That's what gangs were all about, apparently. And apparently they had discovered that alcohol was an excellent interrogation tool.

He could still feel the hands in his hair, wrenching his neck back. The bottle being shoved against his lips, which he refused to open. Someone shoving him against a hard brick wall, plugging his nose until he was forced to part his lips just to _breath._

Liquid death being poured down his throat. Alex choking on it. Coughing and spluttering. The bottle being tossed aside and replaced with another. Taunts being thrown at him as they dragged him outside and dropped him in the rain. The remainder of the clear liquid being poured over his head, like a baptism, before the bottle clattered to its side just away from them.

The pounding assault in his head coupled with the fists and kicks. Then the glint of metal in the night as aluminum baseball bats and steel rods were pulled out.

But… Alex guessed he should count himself lucky. Alcohol was probably preferable over drugs and guns. At least he wasn't dead. Left for dead, sure, but not dead yet.

The mission was over. He was lying on a deserted street, covered in blood and mud and drenched to the bone. His mind wasn't his own, consumed by an unhealthy amount of alcohol. _Not dead though_.

To top it all off, one of his attackers had stomped on his hand. Not only had that broken a bone or two, but it had shattered his ring. _Twist it three times, then press down on the design for three seconds. MI6 will come running._

MI6 wouldn't be running anywhere now. Alex was sure that Smithers' little gadget would have worked, had it not been crushed beyond usability. He always could rely on Smithers, if no one else.

But Smithers wasn't coming. MI6 wasn't coming. No backup, no plan. Alex was on his own in some back street of London that he didn't know.

The wrong side of the tracks. Alex always seemed to find himself on the wrong side of the tracks. His own fault, probably.

Alex sighed, (he couldn't hear the noise over the rain and his throbbing skull, but he was pretty sure he was still breathing) there wasn't time for wallowing in self pity. Just because he didn't have a plan, didn't mean he couldn't make one.

He'd been in worse situations than this. Oddly enough though, that wasn't much of a comfort.

He looked up, trying to block out the showers that pounded into his eyes. Trying to block out the pounding in his head and the way he swayed even when sitting down.

A bus stop. With a nice plastic shelter that looked very welcoming right now. But it was late Tuesday - technically a Wednesday now, it was probably near two in the morning - no buses were running.

Alex looked past the stop. Bingo! A phone booth. He didn't have any money, but he could still dial 999. Only problem was how far away the booth was. So far that he'd barely seen the bright red through the darkness. It was almost perfectly on the opposite end of the street from him and he was pretty sure that his foot was broken. One of them, though he couldn't tell which one because he suddenly realized he was _cold_ and starting to go numb.

Sadly, there wasn't a booth on his end of the street. Alex had checked. Twice.

Alex heaved himself to his feet. One of them was _definitely_ broken, and he guessed it was the right one because that leg collapsed when he put weight on it.

He fell back to the unforgiving ground, only having managed a half step.

On the bright side, he was half a step closer to his goal.

He was also able to wrap his fingers around the empty bottle of vodka, which he glared at then chucked through the air as far away from him as he could - purely out of pettiness. He watched the bottle shatter on the bus stop, glass cascading around it.

If only Alex could cover ground that fast.

He pushed himself up again, keeping his feet firmly under him. _One step at a time_. _Baby steps_. _Just keep putting one foot in front of the other_. _You've got this. Whoo! Team work! What team? Wildcats!_

For some reason, he could hear Tom. The black haired boy shouting nonsensical encouragements at his teammates while they all ran lines. Up and down the football field, everyone feeling like death except Tom who had downed a few Red Bulls, a coffee and a Five Alive in the hours before practice.

The only thing Alex had downed was a bottle of Vodka. Not quite the same.

Alex's forehead collided with a hard surface. He stumbled back a bit ( _there goes my half step_ ) and looked forward, stunned. He glared at the clear wall of the bus shelter, a little hurt by its unexpected violence.

"Rude," he muttered under his breath. Then he used the flimsy walls of the shelter to keep him upright as he shuffled around it. He thought it was the least it could do, considering it had assasulted him.

The rain had let up a bit, Alex noticed. He could hear his own ragged breath now. He could also hear the sound of crunching.

Alex looked down. The ground was glittering, like newly buffed diamonds had been scattered at his feet. Or like all the stars in the heavens were placed there by the hands of God in a captivating pattern only achievable by someone beyond human abilities.

Or, like a drunk English boy had tossed a bottle of vodka that had exploded and left shards of glass. More likely the latter, but Alex wasn't going to rule anything out.

He continued to shuffle, carefully toeing the glass out of his path. Pieces fell into the gutter, quickly washed away and down the drain. _Good riddance_.

That's when Alex noticed it. There, on the drainage grate, a shadow just a little darker than the others. A perfect rectangle.

Then it lit up. A message. On a cellphone. _His_ cellphone.

Alex dropped to his hands and knees, ignoring the stings of pain as glass cut into his palms and through his soaked jeans. He scrambled forward, the world tilting a few times before he managed to get to the grate. He reached out, but stopped just shy of the phone.

His hands were trembling. Shaking.

He couldn't tell if it was from the cold or the drinking, but either way it wasn't good. He was a _spy_. He held _guns_ and _knives_ and _lives_ in his hands. He shouldn't have _shaky hands_.

The cell was balanced rather precariously on the grate. Too big to fit through the slots lying the way it was, but one wrong move could send it into the roaring abyss below the London streets.

He couldn't afford to drop the phone. To shift it and send it plummeting underground. He couldn't afford shaky hands.

He looked back up, at the telephone booth. A little closer than before, but still a lifetime away. Meanwhile, he had a Smithers Grade gadget right at his fingertips. Screw the ring - his _phone_ was a million times more useful.

So he went for it, reached out his shaky trembling hands and took the risk. Alex always was a risk taker.

With the risk came a reward - he held the smooth box in his hands and pushed away from the dangerous _dangerous_ grate.

Alex would have cried with relief if he wasn't already crying.

His quivering finger managed to hit the side button. The screen lit up, brighter and more blinding than the sun, almost sending him into cardiac arrest.

Black spots clouded his vision, dancing and teasing him. He blinked rapidly in an attempt to chase them away. He waved his battered hands futilely in front of his face, trying to focus. _Go away please, black spots. I don't actually have time for a blackout right now, do you mind?_

His eyesight cleared. _Thank you_.

There was a text message on the screen. Alex didn't usually put in contact names (things like Royal and General Bank or Home or Hotel he would, but never names), but he recognized the number.

 _Good luck. Don't die. Call me when you're home._

He had planned to call MI6 or the police, but…

He swiped at the message. The screen was so wet that it took Alex five tries to unlock the phone. Even Smithers' amazing technology had a tough time scanning his shivering fingerprints.

The phone opened, and Alex compulsively read through the last few messages.

 _Few days off in London. You free? -Y_

 _Working. Should be done in a day or two. -A_

That had been just a few hours before. Then there was the message Yassen had just sent.

 _Good luck. Don't die. Call me when you're home._

 _-Y_

Alex was rarely able to text on missions, and usually he would delete any messages as a precaution, but he'd made an exception. It's not like anyone but him could open the phone, and after three and a half weeks undercover he'd been a little lonely.

Tapping his fingers on the screen, he tried to type. About a sentence down the line, he realized that his trembling fingers had misspelled the words so badly even autocorrect didn't have a clue.

His hands were an earthquake. His brain was in a hurricane. His whole life was a natural disaster.

Ignoring the string of garbled letters that made zero sense, Alex opted to call instead. He punched a thumb into the home button, then stabbed at the phone icon.

Then he was faced with typing in the phone number., a slightly easier task, but it still seemed impossible. Yassen had a twenty digit number. _Fuck._ Did he even remember the number? He'd just seen it, on the screen, he should know it. He did know it. The number was engraved in his brain and heart, he _knew_ it.

Probably.

Hot tears ran down his face more furiously than before. _I can't do this._ He tried anyway.

It took him a few long, painful tries. His hands were shaking and seizing from the cold, but eventually he got it. By the time he keyed in the last number, he was sobbing with pain and frustration. He hit the call button with a shuddering gasp of relief.

Placing the phone to his ear, he leaned back against the bus shelter. He listened to it ring. Once. Twice. _Please don't ring out. Please don't ring out. Please. Please. Pretty please with-_

" _Alex?_ "

 _Thank you._

" _Alex? Are you home?_ " Yassen's voice was possibly the best thing Alex had ever heard. Ever. In the history of anything.

"Not exactly," Alex replied. Or at least, he tried to. It came out as a muttered mess, words slurred and jaw chattering. He took a deep breath, inhaling rain droplets. He coughed. Tried again. Got some air.

This time when he spoke into the receiver, he was sure Yassen would be able to dissect what he was trying to say.

"Not exactly. Could you come fetch me please?" There was quite a bit of quaking in his voice, his tongue felt like lead and he'd bitten his cheek, but he thought Yassen got the message.

" _Where are you?_ " Yassen's voice was a lot calmer than his own. But Alex could still hear an underlying panic.

He did his best to describe where he was. He wasn't sure how well he was understood, plus he didn't recognize the street and all the signs were a drunken, impossible to read blur, but he tried his best.

" _I'm coming now. Alex?_ " Alex hummed in response. He could hear an engine start on Yassen's side of the line. " _Are you cold?_ "

That seemed like an odd question. He was sitting on heat-leaching concrete in the icy London rain. Of course he was cold.

Except, he wasn't really cold. He had been, past tense, but not so much anymore. Now, all he really felt was tired. That's what he told to Yassen.

" _Are you able to get out of the rain?_ " Was he? He was sitting against a bus shelter, it shouldn't be too hard to- he shifted, muscles screaming in protest and glass pieces bit into his palm. He managed to get under the roof; it did feel better, not having the rain slam into him. " _Alex? Answer me_." _Oh, oops._

"Sorry," he slurred into the phone. The slippery object slid from his hand, falling to the mostly dry floor under the bus shelter. _That's okay, it can stay there._

Actually, it kind of looked like a good idea. Alex stretched out, lying down next to the phone. Then he curled up the way he used to when he was a kid: legs drawn up and arms tucked under his head in way of a pillow. _Snug as a bug in a rug_.

" _Alex? How do you feel?_ " _Who was that?_ Alex looked around halfheartedly, but saw no one. _Who would be out in this weather anyway? That would be silly._ He answered the voice anyway.

"M'fine. Tired."

" _Alex, listen to me_ ," _it's kind of hard not to listen to the disembodied voice yelling in his ear, but okay._ " _Do not fall asleep, got it? Alex? You hear me? Do not fall asleep_."

Right. Cause sleeping would be bad. Alex knew that…

" _Alex!_ " _Hmm? Was he supposed to answer?_ " _No sleeping_."

"No sleeping," Alex agreed. Then he closed his eyes.

* * *

The first thing Alex noticed when he woke up was the familiar scratch of bandages. A rough texture under his cheek, and the restricting feeling of wraps around his arms and legs and chest.

It was uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as he had been.

"Alex?" He smiled. That was a familiar voice. Last time he heard it was through the static of his cellphone in an alcohol induced haze.

"Hey," his voice cracked a little. Alex shifted and swallowed before opening his eyes.

Yassen was looking down at him, face completely passive. Alex smiled even more - stone cold face? Yeah, Yassen was worried.

"Just tell me, Alex, what exactly you were doing half dead and drunk in a bus stop?"

"Hmm, not much…" He tried to sit up, slipping on the silky sheets. Yassen grabbed him gently and moved him to a sitting position. He was passed a glass of water from the bedside table and took a drink greedily.

He made a face. _Ugh. Lukewarm. Gross._

"Alexander." Yassen sounded very no nonsense.

"Oh, it's _Alexander_ now? Am I in trouble?" Alex leaned forward, kissing Yassen on the nose in an attempt to get a reaction. The assassin scrunched his nose slightly and gave Alex a look that was both bemused and amused. It was cute.

"Yes. You're in _a lot_ of trouble. Now, are you gonna tell me what happened?"

"Nope!" Alex popped the 'p' and leaned forward, silently asking for a kiss. "Classified."

Yassen tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. After a moment, the assassin indulged him, pressing their lips together.

"So…" Alex dragged Yassen closer, "exactly _how_ much trouble am I in?"

Yassen was very obviously concealing a smile. The assassin let out a small, predatory growl under his breath as he moved Alex back down the bed.

Alex laughed. Oh yeah, he was in _so_ much trouble.

* * *

 **AN:**

Thanks for reading; please leave your thoughts in the reviews!


	10. More Trouble

**Warnings:** Slash, age gap, sickness, gangs.

 **Rated:** T

*Takes place the morning after the previous chapter, Late Night Trouble.

* * *

Alex groaned. He was in _so_ much trouble.

His body was aching, every muscle yelling out at him from the abuse they'd been through. His head was pounding. He had chills. His stomach hurt. His heart racing.

"Alex?" A voice spoke softly from behind him, the noise pierced his aching brain in a way that was only slightly unpleasant, but also warmed him with familiarity, "Are you awake?"

Alex moaned - the single noise carrying an incomprehensible level of despair.

"I'll take that as a yes," Yassen laughed. "And how are you feeling?"

He repeated the noise, even louder than before.

"I'll take that as a 'like shit'." Alex wasn't sure he was a fan of the assassins snark - he certainly didn't think it was the time for it - but he supposed that you weren't able to spell 'assassin' without 'sass'.

Alex rolled over, his head throbbing with the movement. He tried to sit up, but stopped when he was assaulted with the abrupt urge to throw up. He covered his mouth with one hand.

"Am I sick?" It came out as a pained croak.

Yassen nodded, he lay on his side, fully clothed and on top of the covers. The man looked eons better than Alex felt (though that wasn't a difficult feat considering Alex felt like he'd lost a three round fight with a hurricane). "You're running a high fever. Probably from the rain. And I'm sure the hangover isn't helping much. Plus, I think you may have a concussion." Alex made a pained noise in agreement, his head was _pounding_ in a way that was familiar but entirely unwelcome.

Through the drums and cymbals reverberating around his skull, a thought occured. He had no idea how long it had been, and he hadn't sent word to MI6. They had no clue what had happened to him.

"I need to get back," he said, without much conviction. "MI6 will be in a right state, they don't know where I am."

Yassen smiled indulgently, shaking his head slightly. "You're not going anywhere."

Yassen tilted Alex's chin up, placing the back of a hand against his forehead to test his temperature. The assassin frowned slightly - not good, then.

"Sleep, hopefully the fever breaks soon." Yassen's time of voice wasn't instilling Alex with much confidence, but he lay back down anyway.

* * *

/Yassen/

He watched Alex slowly drift off to a fitful sleep. The boy had woken up twice during the day- both times asking if he was sick, then saying that he needed to get back to MI6 - then Yassen would coax him back to sleep. It worried him that Alex didn't seem to recall waking up and conversing with him.

He tugged the duvet back up to Alex's chin. Alex was sweating, his skin hot, but he was trembling with chills. Shivering as if he was still out in the rain.

Yassen shuddered out of sympathy. Finding Alex early that morning - pale white and soaked to the bone in a dirty, dark downtown bus stop - had been scary to say the least. But he'd gotten the spy back to his hotel, warmed him and Alex had woken up shortly. Yassen had wrongly thought that Alex had lucked out.

He had been woken in the morning by Alex's delusional muttering - his fever high. Alex's temperature had fluctuated throughout the morning. Sometimes low enough to let Alex break through to consciousness. Other times so high that Yassen worried his brain would short circuit and melt.

Just now, as night approached, was the most coherent Alex had been, and Yassen was worried the lucidity wouldn't last.

With a creak of the bed springs, he rolled to his feet. He picked up the few medical supplies that he'd left on the bed, and put them on the side table. Also on the table was the cellphone he had found on Alex. A message from the 'bank' and several from other coded names; people like 'mum' or with the funny names you would expect on a teenagers phone.

Yassen opened the phone (he had watched Alex type the passcode in one night a few months ago and had, naturally, memorized it). He had originally replied to MI6, to the bank, pretending to be Alex. He'd said that Alex had had his cover blown and was lying low, but that only held the wolves at bay for so long.

A few more messages had appeared, asking when he would be coming in. Yassen thought about replying - Alex could well be with him for a while yet, until his fever breaks - but he decided that Alex could come up with a suitable lie when he was a little more with it. Anyway, he didn't know if Alex and MI6 had any code words, and he really didn't want to risk it more than he already had. He closed the phone again, putting it down.

After fetching a few more supplies, he settled down on on the edge of the bed. He easily fell into a rhythm; cooling Alex's forehead and wetting his lips with a cloth, rearranging the covers each time the boy tossed about, running a soothing hand over Alex's arm when he mumbled from nightmares. It wasn't an ideal situation, but Yassen was feeling cautiously optimistic.

* * *

Yassen should have been more cautious with his optimism. He found himself quite disappointed when everything, naturally, fell apart at the seams.

It started off slowly; in fact, for a while, he thought things were looking up. Alex's fever had broken faster than he had expected, hopefully meaning the worse had passed, and he was beginning to come to. Yassen had begun to relax, ready to call this a win. Fatal mistake. Well, maybe not so dramatic.

His first warning that things were going to shit was when he looked out the window. He hadn't taken Alex to the hotel that was their usual point of rendezvous; Alex had been in a rather rough side of town that couldn't have been farther from the posh, upper class hotel. Instead, Yassen had chosen one of his older safehouses that he hadn't used in years. In fact, it had been one of the first places he had bought after joining Scorpia, and it reflected the low budget he had been on.

It was the basement level of a low apartment building. It was about the size of a large walk-in closet (or a prison cell), and had one, tiny window, level with the ground outside.

He was looking out the window, starting to feel a bit drowsy, when a pair of boot clad legs strode past. Except, the person wasn't 'strolling', more like 'lurking'. Walking far too slowly for someone in this particular neighborhood. Another thing that clued Yassen to the impending problem was the knife strapped to the person's ankle, visible through the black not-quite skinny jeans.

Taking a closer look, Yassen couldn't say he recognized the boy outside, but he certainly recognized his type. From a gang, surely.

Now, Alex hadn't said much about his mission, but Yassen had drawn a few deductions. By the way the spy was dressed, and the part of town he was in, Yassen had supposed it was gang related. He only knew of two gangs in the area (that were apparently having a bit of a turf war at the moment) but he knew that either gang looking around for them was bad news.

The gang member walked slowly away, but Yassen could see that their safe house had been marked. He had been as careful and discreet as possible when coming here, but gangs ruled the area. Not to mention that stumbling around with an unconscious blond boy wasn't exactly inconspicuous.

He looked back at Alex, who was mumbling lightly in Russian. He was trying to decide what to do, but then the decision was made for him.

A flurry of movement attracted his attention back to the window, and the gang member was back. Not alone either. Several other people - he couldn't tell age or gender with their hoods on - had joined. And they were approaching the safe house.

* * *

/Alex/

His body shook. No wait, something shook his body. Alex scowled with annoyance and batted them away; he was too sick for such nonsense.

"Alex," it was as if the words were coming through a thick wall or a layer of water, "wake up, please, we need to go."

"Go?" He asked, confused. Yassen did realized that he was _literally dying_. Sort of.

"Yes," Yassen answered. Alex managed to pull himself from the depths of his blankets. Yassen looked worried - not an emotion he associated with the man. That alone gave him a jolt of adrenaline.

"Why?" He asked, but the answer came with the sound of a door caving in. He looked towards the only door in the room, but the noise had come from the floor above. This was also the moment that Alex realized he was not at his and Yassen's typical hotel. He was in something closer to a… hovel, he supposed. A ghoulish basement from a horror show. Not that he was complaining; he'd been in plenty worse places than this. Anyway, the state of the room wasn't the most pressing issue at the moment.

The approaching noise of footsteps were a bigger concern.

Alex tried to push himself up, but failed miserably. Blood rushed to his head and spots danced past his eyes. He paused for a moment, hoping to recover, but Yassen wasn't having it. The assassin grabbed him round the waist and pulled him free of the covers.

One of his arms was slung around Yassens shoulders, and he was being dragged to his feet; held firmly against Yassen's side. He let Yassen do what he wanted, aware that he had lost control of the situation like a child watching a helium balloon float away into the sky.

He decided to let Yassen worry about getting them out of whatever situation alive, he would just worry about not puking on Yassens jacket. Just as important a task, he thought.

He was towed along to the door. Yassen hesitated (another thing he'd never seen the assassin do) but plowed onwards.

They made it into a skinny corridor, and Alex's first, muddled thought was: 'we're fucked'.

He recognized the people in the hallway, of course. All members of the gang he had infiltrated, and a good many of them had been there last night - attempting to beat him to death.

They must have gotten the memo that he'd survived.

Yassen acted a lot faster than he managed; before Alex even had a chance to blink, Yassen had disappeared from his side and tossed two gang members bodily down the hallway.

Alex caught himself on the edge of the doorway to prevent himself from falling. He considered giving Yassen a hand, but…

The assassin slammed the head of one boy into a wall (Alex winced in sympathy) while simultaneously kicking another in the stomach. The target fell down wheezing, then started coughing up blood.

It didn't look like Yassen needed his help. He guessed that the gang members hadn't counted on a top tier assassin waiting for them.

But of course, the universe couldn't possibly let Alex sit idly by. No, that would be too easy.

He was just trying to blink the black dots from his eyes, when one of the gang members picked himself off the floor. Instead of going for Yassen (who was clearly the most imminent threat) he lunged at Alex.

Clinging to the wooden door frame, Alex had the brief thought that if he let go, he would fall. Not the best defence.

Then a fist was being thrown at his face; Alex lashed out with one hand, yanking his assailant towards him. Usually, this move would be accompanied by a fist or palm strike to the face, or at the very least a blades hand to the throat.

Instead, Alex did the next best thing he could think of. Lent forward and smashed his forehead into the other guy's nose.

There was a sharp cracking noise, then Alex's headache started beating double time.

Seconds later, a hand fell on his shoulders. Alex was prepared to give 'the old one two', but when he looked up it was just Yassen.

Blue eyes stared at him - almost laughing, but more concerned - light fingers brushed his forehead.

"You have nice header," Yassen said.

"Football." He didn't think he could handle more than a one word reply, unless he wanted to throw up then and there.

"Probably didn't help the concussion," Yassen observed. He spoke in a way that was almost scolding.

Alex shrugged and nodded. "No, probably not."

Yassen tilted his chin up - worried blue eyes boring in to his for a second. The world seemed to slowly blur around him, which he found both annoying and inconvenient. Then Yassen was wrapping him in strong arms and leading him out of the hallway, through the minefield of unconsciousness bodies.

They got into a car that he didn't recognize, and Yassen buckled him up. When they drove off, Yassen steered with one hand on the wheel and one hand intertwined with Alex's.

He focused on the feel of Yassen's hands; smooth and soft on some parts, but calloused and scarred on others. Ridges and indentations left from holding a gun. Alex found he liked the feel of Yassen's rough skin over the smooth - it felt more real, more human, and helped ground him to reality.

Alex traced the white scars that dotted the backs of Yassen's hands until they came to a stop. Looking up, he was relieved to recognize the hotel.

He was forced to release Yassen's hand as the man got out of the car, but quickly claimed it prisoner when they joined up again.

Yassen led him along, and they soon found themselves in an elevator. Alex almost felt like he was losing bits of time, maybe he was just distracted.

The next clear memory he had was of collapsing in a familiar bed. Hand still clamped around Yassen's. The assassin had followed him without complaint, curling around him.

Looking out the tall windows, Alex was lulled by the sight. London didn't go long without rain, and indeed a storm had rolled in. Within seconds - or maybe minutes, he wasn't sure - the raindrops were pounding against the glass. As night rose steadily, Alex remembered looking up at a sky just like this less than twenty four hours ago.

He'd been lying in a gutter - wet and cold and tired and frustrated. Now, he was dry and warm and content, ready for a proper night's rest encased in warm arms.

Yassen shifted closer, and Alex closed his eyes.

* * *

 **AN:**

Review please!


	11. Devastating

**Warnings:** Slash, age gap, implied rape and underage.

 **Rated:** T

* * *

Alex was a good agent. A phenomenal one, in fact.

He had long since stopped being a child. He was talented enough and experienced enough to complete missions that would have undoubtedly floored fully grown, trained adults. In fact, Alex had a success rate that was virtually unparalleled.

So then, why was he so willing to risk the success of this entire mission? Well, that question was easily answered: Yassen Gregorovich.

Alex rolled his eyes to himself in annoyance, keeping his head down so no one would notice. Yassen Fucking Gregorovich. Just _had_ to come along and jeopardized everything - he wasn't sure what Yassen was doing here, but he doubted he was on holiday. Most likely, he was with the group that Alex was trying to infiltrate. It was extremely inconvenient, but Alex still allowed it. He knew there would be a reward for him later.

But for now, he had to try and keep his mission on track. Which would be easier if he knew what exactly he was protecting the mission from. Aside from what he could guess, he had no idea why Yassen was here, when he had arrived, or who he was working for - only that a second ago he had caught a glimpse of his unmistakable blue eyes that stood out starkly in a town of brown eyed folk. Then he'd had to immediately avert his eyes, looking forlornly at the ground like the rest of the crowd.

* * *

Alex was in the middle of a desert. Oppressively hot, sand whipping at you so fast it left marks on bare skin. It was a place that, if given the choice, no one would live in. It was also in a country at war.

A civil war that no one outside the country would hear about - it wasn't in the news, it wasn't spoken about in schools. Everything about it was _unbelievably_ censored. The only people that did know about it, were those involved; that included MI6, and now it included Alex as well.

From what Alex had been told, the current government was warring with a rebel group that was attempting a coup. A long and drawn out coup that wouldn't have usually drawn the eye's of such important people. This was different, though; the country was small, yes, but it held a lot of weight. A lot of important things took place there - lots of extremely powerful people had invested a lot into the country. MI6, along with a lot of other world powers, wanted to see the right people in charge. They supported the rebels.

So MI6, the CIA, ASIS and many others had sent in agents to help gather information for the rebels. They had just about everything covered, they were actually making good headway, but then the government stepped it up a notch: they started kidnaping children.

They sent soldiers into the cities with the most rebel presence, and made people hand their kids over. Took them God knows where. The rebels were losing support because no one wanted to fight if their kids lives would be the forfeit.

So MI6 had sent Alex, so they could find out where the kids were being taken. The city he was in was one of the last strong resistances - Alex had been expecting a group of vans to come careening out of the sand dunes without warning to spirit away the youth population.

Alex had been undercover for a couple of weeks; he had assimilated easily enough. He'd been holed up with a mixed group of agents that had been in deep cover for months. He stayed in a one room apartment with eight other men and women. Slept curled in a corner with a single, thin blanket. The apartment had no heating or air conditioning - days were hot and nights were cold. He mostly stayed inside, waiting for trouble to start.

He didn't have to wait long.

Not an hour earlier, soldiers had come knocking, busting doors down and dragging families to the streets. Alex stood in the sweltering sun, uncomfortably hot in his head to toe robe, even with the light material. He tried to focus on the military man in front of him and did his best to decipher the foreign words.

The official looking figure stood on a makeshift stage, spouting out some propaganda to the masses. Alex was at a disadvantage here; he didn't speak the language - he had learned what he could before he'd been sent, but it wasn't near enough.

Alex was trying examining the man and the surrounding people, and that was when he'd spotted him. Standing to the left of the stage, eyes scanning the crowd. Yassen was in similar dress to Alex - nothing showing but the smallest slit of eyes - but Alex recognized him nonetheless.

Alex thought about mentioning it to the agent standing next to him, but decided against it. Instead, he looked down at the sand between his feet, doing his best to look suitably frightened like every other child in the crowd.

It probably would have been smarter to notify the agents of Yassen, but... MI6 had never told Alex that Yassen was alive, and in retaliation, Alex had declined to mention to MI6 whenever he saw Yassen on a mission. It felt like getting even. Even though he _did_ work for '6 by his own free will nowadays, he knew there was still plenty he wasn't being told. So he thought it was only fair to keep a few secrets of his own. MI6 didn't know about him and Yassen, and he planned to keep it that way.

Alex was an excellent agent, but he didn't care about that. He _did_ care about Yassen, though.

He turned his attention back to the speaker.

"He's saying that there is a new government mandate." Alex looked to his left, recognizing the whispered voice. Yassen stood there, not looking at him, staring stoically forward, blending in seamlessly with the crowd of robed citizens. He glanced to his right where the other agent stood - the man hadn't noticed a thing.

"He's requesting that all underaged citizens be sent forward," Yassen continued, "I suppose that's your cue?"

Alex nodded, moving forward through the crowd with the rest of the youth. Crying mothers and fathers pushed reluctant kids forward. Soldiers surrounded the crowed, guns held at the ready.

One of the agents Alex was with made a show of hugging him and shoving him towards the bus.

A hand clamped around his upper arm, steering Alex towards the door. He mimicked the other kids he saw, staring over his shoulder and pulling in the direction of his 'parents'.

Then Alex was in a tatty bus, being shoved into a seat by a window. Looking through the grainy glass, he made eye contact with the only blue in the whole city. Yassen stood directly next to the other MI6 agents who were blissfully ignorant. Alex couldn't read his facial expression through the cloths, and he didn't know what the assassin meant by the subtle wave sent his way.

A man in desert camouflage got on the bus, yelling at the other occupants. The only words Alex could translate were the cusses, which there were a remarkable amount of. Alex fiddled with the rope belted around his waist, twisting it nervously. Similar gestures were being shown around the bus.

Slowly, the bus rolled out. He turned to get a final glimpse of Yassen, but the assassin had faded into the crowd.

* * *

They had been taken to a compound, fenced by tall brick walls. One gate in and out, and nothing but empty desert for miles.

The place was crowded, there had to be hundreds of kids here, plus dozens of armed soldiers keeping them under control. Alex shared a room with nine other boys, all of them lying within an inch of each other on the dirt floors every night - still wearing the same robes they'd been taken in. Most people were walking around with their hoods down, faces uncovered, since the tall walls blocked the sand filled wind and a lot of the burning sun.

As soon as he'd gotten here, Alex had activated a small, Smithers made device. A little patch on his side that was disguised as a birthmark. That had been four days ago, and Alex was really wishing that MI6's strike team would hurry the hell up.

Especially since two days before, Yassen had found his way here. Soldiers had been rolling in every day and Yassen had come with them. Alex had been outside, wandering around with a young, nine year old boy and his six year old sister that he had made friends with.

Yassen had spotted him right away, but hadn't approached him. Had simply made his way to a building that was separated from the rest, where the soldiers all had their rooms.

Alex had almost expected a summons to Yassen's room. It wouldn't have looked odd; Alex knew that quite a few soldiers were taking advantage of their close proximity to a group of helpless kids. But no call came.

He almost hoped that, if MI6 didn't strike tonight, Yassen would call for him. One of the soldiers had been eyeing him at breakfast that morning, and Alex had been having a hell of a time avoiding being seen. He'd flipped his cowl up, covering his face and going outside, hoping that would be enough to escape further notice.

* * *

Alex was out in the garden - or at least, that's what he thought the translation of what the other kids called it was. Really, it was just the stretch of dirt separating the buildings and the soldiers barracks. A patch of gnarly bushes and a single crooked tree grew next to the wall, and the younger kids liked to play games here.

Alex had just been teaching his nine year old friend how to play hide and seek (while keeping an eye on the barracks) and was now wandering through the sparse growth with the boys little sister in tow.

He let the little girl check behind bushes and around tree, already knowing exactly where the boy was hiding. The little girl clapped happily as she found her brother, tucked behind a bush she had passed twice before. Alex smiled, then glanced back at the barracks.

In the few seconds that Alex had looked away, several soldiers had filed out. The sun was nearly directly overhead now, so it wasn't being blocked by the walls. The soldier's stayed in the shade of their veranda, sitting on some broken looking, mismatched chairs and stools. Yassen had appeared with them, positioning a three legged, wooden stool so that he faced the soldiers.

And more importantly, Alex thought, so that when he looked past the soldiers, he was looking at Alex.

He did his best to ignore this, telling his two young friends to go hide, and he would seek. He still spoke the dialect choppily at best, but he was getting better with the full immersion.

Alex lent against the tree, a dust cloud rising around him. He tried not to sneeze. Closing his eyes, he started counting slowly to one hundred.

When he opened his eyes, the world caught fire.

Yassen had just gotten up, and was running back inside the barracks; Alex caught sight of him disappearing around the door frame, robe billowing. The rest of the soldiers had risen to their feet as well, yelling and pointing. Alex recognized a word; _plane_.

Looking to the spot they were pointing at, Alex saw not a plane, but a _missile_. Barely a few seconds had passed since he had opened his eyes before the torpedo slammed into its target.

The barracks.

Alex was dimly aware that he was screaming; that he had fallen to his knees with the force of the blast; that the small slit of skin around his eyes was getting scorched by the fire that now encased the crumbled remains of the barracks. He vaguely registered the bodies of the soldiers scattered around the open space, mutilated and bleeding onto the pale dirt. Barely even noticed as the two kids he'd been playing with sprinted past him, running towards the relative safety of the buildings.

All he could think was: _Yassen_.

Yassen had been in there. Wouldn't have stood a chance against that missile, he knew. Alex had always had this image of Yassen in his mind - of someone superhuman. But it wasn't true. He was human. He could die. He may have survived a bullet, but a missile is a lot harder to dodge.

Alex picked himself off the ground (had stopped screaming at some point) and he took off towards the burning wreckage. He knew, he _knew_ there was no chance that Yassen had lived. No way in hell. He probably wouldn't even find a body, the hit had been so devastating. Yet he ran anyway.

He picked his way past bodies and rubble and fire, stopping once he got to the remaining structure. The only thing that was intact was the stone floor and half the back wall. Everything else was… gone. Obliterated.

Alex knew that most of the soldiers had been inside, but he saw no sign of them.

His vision tunneled. Smoke and flame closed around him, but it was like it was all happening on another plane of reality; it wasn't registering.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, working through his shock and horror, but the next thing he knew a man was at his side. Alex looked at him, thought he recognized the man - certainly the soldier's uniform he wore was familiar - but he couldn't place him. His mind wasn't connecting the dots.

The man spoke, Alex watched his mouth move, but he heard nothing for a long second. Then all the noise came flooding back in one, ear shattering roar.

"Snap out of it, Cub! We've got to _move_."

Then he was being dragged from the wreckage, shoved into a plane and belted to a seat. A needle was jabbed into his arm, and he passed out.

* * *

Alex couldn't move. It felt like his chest was being compressed, like he couldn't breath.

He was back home, in his flat, all alone. He'd been in his bedroom for two days, ever since he had gotten back, just sitting on the hardwood floor. He'd tried lying in his bed, but found it too soft after weeks of sleeping on stone and dirt.

He had no energy - could barely get up to eat or drink. He had managed to drag himself into the shower that morning, and had stood in the steam for hours, staring blankly at the tiles.

Then he'd sat on his floor again and cried. Silent tears, unable to muster the energy to make a noise; he couldn't even tell what emotions he was feeling, but he hadn't felt like this since… since Jack died. Somewhere between grief and guilt and horror and absolute crushing sorrow.

He kept reliving the moment of the missile strike over and over, on repeat in his mind. Images of the barrack blowing up and the truck that Jack had been in bled together until he couldn't remember what either looked like on their own. Why did he have to lose everyone? Every person that he… everyone died.

Alex shook his head, choking back another heart wrenching sob. He focused on his phone across the room, lying on the floor like him, slowly dying by the door.

MI6 had been calling, Alex had been blanking. But he hadn't received a message in a while. Alex was wondering when they would send someone to bust his door down. How long would he get to grieve? MI6 didn't even know what he was grieving for. They would question it soon enough.

So that evening, when he heard his front door creak open, he assumed that it was '6 coming to see if he was alive.

The knob of his bedroom door turned, and his tears fell faster. He looked up, squinting against the light that flooded his darkened room.

"Alex?"

His heart beat double time. His throat constricted. He must be seeing ghosts. Or maybe he had died. "Yassen?"

The tall figure rushed towards him, dragging him off the floor.

"You're alive… you're alive? Oh my God, you're alive." Yassen was holding his face between soft hands, kissing every part of him that he could reach; his lips, his cheek, his neck, his forehead, his hair. Alex just stared blankly, unmovingly gazing at the very much alive man in front of him. "How are you alive? I saw- I _saw-_ "

"I'm fine, Alex, I'm fine," Yassen kissed him as he spoke. "There was a hidden bunker, I got into it just in time. I'm fine."

Alex lost all feeling in his legs, falling against Yassen who caught him without complaint. He was hugged tightly, and Alex took solace in pressing his ear against Yassen's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

"It was like - Jack. The fire and - I thought you were _dead_ ," Alex stammered.

"I'm right here. I'm here, I'm fine."

Alex stepped back, turning in a circle and scrubbed the palms of his hands across his face, feeling frustrated. His breath stuttered. "Why am I crying?" He asked through hot tears. He couldn't stop _crying_. He looked at Yassen, not sure what kind of answer the man could give.

Yassen simply placed a hand on his face, softly wiping away tears, and instead of answering, he said, "I love you."

Alex felt his sobs subside and leaned into the warm hand against his cheek. A kiss was pressed to his forehead.

His breath steadied, then reality hit. "You shouldn't be here," he choked, "MI6-"

"- don't know I'm here," Yassen continued, taking his hands. "We have time."

Alex was lead to his bed. Yassen threw back the covers, pulling Alex under and wrapping him up tight. The mattress didn't feel so foreign anymore. Alex realized that this was the first time Yassen had been in his bed. In his flat at all.

He couldn't pinpoint why, but he started crying again. Pressed his face against Yassens chest and let the tears fall.

Yassen didn't question it - just hugged him closer. That's when he got it, why he was crying, and realized Yassen had given him an answer after all.

He loved him. Alex had never realized that love could be so completely devastating.

* * *

 **AN:**

Please review! Feedback really does help my writing process, and even the smallest reviews make me smile! Even if you're just saying you liked it, or if you want to point out spelling or grammar mistakes or what you didn't like - anything and everything is appreciated. If you want to chat about the story in more depth, feel free to PM me. Thanks!


	12. Heaven

**Warnings:** slash, age gap, language, bath sex.

 **Rated:** M

* * *

/Yassen/

This boy… this beautiful boy would certainly be his undoing. The one thing he couldn't plan for, couldn't anticipate, and most definitely _couldn't_ control. Oh yes, Alex Rider would be the end of him.

Maybe not physically. In the battle of skill and experience, Yassen was still in the lead (though not by much nowadays). Emotionally, though? Could a cold hearted, rock hard assassin really be brought to his knees by a broken heart?

Yes. Absolutely yes, without a doubt. Alex Rider held his heart in the palm of his hand in a manner that was almost careless. Like he simply didn't have a clue how much power he held. Maybe he didn't. Alex never seemed quite aware of how much he meant to other people - how important he was. It didn't seem to matter what Yassen said, how many times he said he loved him, Alex would never fully understand how important he was.

He held Yassen's heart firmly. The same way he'd press down on the trigger of a gun.

He held it unwaveringly. The way he would hold the scope of a sniper's rifle.

Alex Rider held a weapon of mass destruction and was utterly ignorant of its potential. The same way a child might hold a grenade.

And Yassen? He was powerless. He just had to pray the boy didn't pull the pin, and turn his world to ash.

* * *

/Alex/

He laughed as the rough pads of Yassen's feet grazed down his thigh. A ticklish shock shot up from the point of contact, he gripped the edges of the tub tightly for a moment and waited for the feeling to subside.

When Alex looked up, the assassin was smirking. Completely aware of the effect he was having. In retaliation, Alex flicked a handful of bath water at him.

It was rare for Alex and Yassen to find more than a day or two where their schedules coincided. More often than not, they would have a brief hour, maybe a bit longer, at the end of missions. A lot of the time it was Yassen that compromised his plans in order to see Alex.

The assassin kept tabs on him, not that Alex really minded. So whenever Yassen was in London, or in the same corner of the world, he would show up. Just for a little while.

To Alex, getting a weekend with Yassen was a miracle of epic proportions. And this? He must have died and gone to heaven.

Somehow, they'd managed a week. And what a fucking _fantastic_ week it had been.

Alex had just come back from a taxing mission with the SAS - he'd been away for _months_. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to not be on a mission. Because Alex was technically still a member of the elite soldiers group, MI6 decided to grant him an SAS leave of absence. Three entire weeks.

It just so happened that Yassen had also been on a long and high profile mission. So high profile, in fact, that his employers agreed it would be best for Yassen to lie low for a little. A couple of weeks at least to let things blow over.

So Alex had sneaked away from his MI6 surveillance, jumped into Yassen's car, and enjoyed the ride down to the beautiful countryside of Wales. It was misty, and just cold enough to constitute staying huddled inside.

Yassen had a quaint little house on the prairie that suited their needs quite well. The property it was on was ginormous. A huge field surrounding the house that bled into forest. No neighbors for miles. The solitude was cathartic. Alex hadn't gotten to relax so comfortably in years.

MI6 were constantly blowing up his phone, not knowing where he'd disappeared to, but he'd become adept at ignoring it. He'd shoved it in a drawer and hadn't thought about it since.

He spent a few days lounging in bed, barely moving and receiving his meals from the faintly amused assassin. Then Yassen had decided enough was enough, and quit humouring him.

Yassen had yanked Alex out of the cozy covers, tossed him over a shoulder like a fireman, and then Alex found himself rather unceremoniously dropped into a steaming bath.

Alex had been soaked head to toe, water dripping off the ends of his hair and down his face. His clothes had been drenched, and rubbed against his skin uncomfortably, but he almost kept them on just to spite the assassin. Then he'd decided clothes off would be more fun for the both of them.

Yassen on the other hand had slipped in carefully, hair and face staying completely dry. Not only that, he had only joined after quite a bit of persuading (and stripping) on Alex's part. The tub, after all, wasn't very large and _definitely_ wasn't built for two; but they had made the best of the situation. Legs intertwined under the water, toes just falling short of the line dividing an innocent bath from something else.

Alex played with the water, watching it splash heartily over the edge of the tub. Yassen made a disapproving noise that was paid no heed.

He made his fun knocking the bottles off the edge of the bath (much like a mischievous cat would paw something off a shelf) and watched the bottles bob and slowly sink into the depths of the sudsy water. Then he would flick the bottles back up, reposition them and repeat.

Yassen, meanwhile, had fallen into a kind of dose in the heat of the bath. His eyes were closed and his head tilted back ever so slightly. Alex too was feeling a bit drowsy, but he stopped himself from closing his eyes, a part of his brain supplying a memory of Jack telling him horror stories of people that had drowned in the bath.

To distract himself, Alex snatched up a large bottle of shampoo and played a small game of catch with himself; tossing the bottle up higher and higher and catching it with slippery fingers.

It all happened very fast: Alex tossed the bottle as high as he could, the uneven object tilting off course and slamming into the bar overhead that held the shower curtain.

A resounding _bang_ reverberated through the small bathroom, and Yassen jerked his head up in response to the unexpected noise. At just the same time, the bottle came hurtling back down. Alex was too surprised to make more than a halfhearted attempt at catching it, and the shampoo collided violently with the surface of the water.

To Alex, it looked a lot like the eruption of a volcano, but perhaps he was being dramatic. Nonetheless, water was shot in every direction. A few mild specks hit Alex in the face and chest, but to his horror, the majority hurtled directly at Yassen.

The assassin got a face full of soapy water, he shook his head with a look of pure exasperation. Striking blue eyes opened, and Yassen gave Alex a small smile.

The kind of smile you _definitely_ don't want to receive from an assassin.

Moments later, he felt a hand wrap around his ankle, then his world flipped sideways. Alex snorted a nose full of water before rocketing upwards. Water poured off his face and Alex gave a small, vexed cough. If a cough could sound vexed.

Yassen was chuckling softly, which earned than man a shove and a look of indignation. The assassin merely smiled and leaned back against the bath, looking all too pleased with himself.

Playfully, Alex shifted to his hands and knees, crawling over to Yassen. He straddled the assassins thighs, smiling and running hands through damp hair. Yassen ran a thumb over his cheekbone - all annoyance forgotten. Alex was aware that they were both painfully hard.

The position was uncomfortable, if either of them had given thought to that. The bath was just small enough to be cramped, and the water had cooled to slightly less than lukewarm.

The porcelain was slippery and difficult to find purchase on; Yassen held onto Alex's waist as he maneuvered himself over his hips.

Alex hissed in pain when Yassen pushed into him. They hadn't actually done this in a while, and they didn't get enough opportunities to that would help Alex get used to the feeling.

Yassen didn't give him long to acclimate, shifting Alex's whole body and angling to just the right spot. Alex moaned - he leaned forward, pressing his lips against Yassen's neck. He could hear Yassen's breath in his ear, gasping and panting.

He changed from kissing to biting down on the soft side of Yassen's neck. He could feel Yassen's pulse, could feel it quicken. Heard a sharp groan as he bit deeper.

Hands on his hips maneuvered him, pushing him up and letting him settle back down - slowly, keeping him from falling. One hand moved from his side to his face, tilting his head up. Yassen moved Alex's face until they were looking right at each other. Alex covered Yassen's mouth with his own.

His breath quickened, his chest tighten. He felt like he was drowning, even with his head above water.

Alex gasped, his whole body shuddering and Yassen's doing the same. He slipped slightly, moving a hand behind Yassens head to catch himself. His hand hit the wall, moving down and catching on the knobs of the bath.

Hot water poured out in a stream from the tap, scorching down Yassens back. The assassin yelped - actually _yelped_ \- and leaned away from the torrent of boiling water.

They collided, Yassen breathing heavily with pain and Alex with shock and excursion. Yassen looked up at him - halfway between laughing and scowling.

"You're a mess today, aren't you?" Yassen cocked his head to the side, looking as the water overflowed from the bath, spreading across the floor.

Alex chuckled. He reached past Yassen and turned the tap off. Yassen shifted, pulling out of Alex with a groan.

Alex gave Yassen a kiss. "Maybe we should get out? Go to bed, then I'll make it up to you."

* * *

/Alex/

It was later that night; Alex woke from a nightmare, unable to recall the details but still hearing a cold, high laugh. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but his hair was still damp, so it can't have been that long.

Yassen had woken up beside him - already a light sleeper, Yassen had developed a sort of sixth sense when it came to Alex's nightmares. He had found it embarrassing at first, but now he welcomed the company when memories brought him to abrupt wakefulness.

He didn't say anything, just slipped out of the covers and pulled on some trousers. Yassen was already following him as he grabbed a jumper from an armchair and went out the ornate balcony doors.

He took a second for himself, breathing in the frosty night air. When he exhaled, a cloud of grey fog rose from his lips. When gentle hands wrapped around his waist, Alex was feeling a lot more composed. He leaned back into the embrace, felt lips being pressed against his neck.

He tilted his head back, looking up at Yassen. The assassin was gazing past, into the surrounding wilderness, and Alex's was a bit grateful for that. He didn't imagine he was wearing the most stoic face at the moment; in fact, if he had to guess, he'd say he was displaying a large amount of awe.

This man… absolutely stunning, Alex never used to appreciate beauty. But Yassen was amazing, a work of art - and Alex would be horribly embarrassed if Yassen knew he thought any of this, but he couldn't help thinking it.

It had taken Alex a long time to recognize it - this feeling. But standing here, leaning into Yassen's side, staring up at the stars, he was certain. He was in love.

Which was an unbelievably dumb move on his part. Falling in _love_? Not smart at all. It was a weakness, but… it might just be the only weakness worth having.

It wasn't something he had anticipated, and it most definitely wasn't something he could control. He could never seem to express just how much Yassen meant to him; 'I love you' didn't seem to cover it. Alex intertwined his fingers with Yassens, bringing them up to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Yassen's hand, trying to convey his feelings in the small gesture.

Yassen Gregorovich held his heart in the palm of his hand, firmly and unwaveringly. It terrified Alex in the best way possible.

* * *

/Yassen/

Yassen was starting to get cold from the night air - he was topless, standing on a balcony in chilly Wales. His only source of warmth was Alex, the smaller body pressed against his side, emitting heat. Alex had had the presence of mind to pull on a warm jumper that was soft against Yassens skin.

He pressed a kiss to the top of Alex's head. The boy turned bright brown eyes up at him, smiling in a way that Yassen didn't get to see often. Pure happiness: not worrying about anything.

Alex was looking up at him, starry eyed, reflecting the night sky. Then he tilted his head, considering.

"Did it hurt?" Alex asked with a smirk.

Yassen laughed and looked to the sky in exasperation, "What? When I fell from heaven?"

"No," Alex shifted in his grip, pushing Yassen so his back was against the balcony rail. He leaned so that their lips were a hairsbreadth from touching. "I _meant_ when you fell for me."

Yassen laughed, brushing his lips softly against Alex's. "Oh yes," he answered honestly, "more than anything."

* * *

 **AN:**

As always, reviews very welcome! I love getting your comments and predictions and so on, so keep it up!


	13. Rumours

**Warnings:** Slash, age gap.

 **Rated:** T

This chapter is dedicated to cuby18, who gave me the idea for this chapter. Thanks for all your reviews and suggestions! Keep them coming!

* * *

Alex was out on the town.

Lights flashed up and down the streets. Green and red glowing like stars in the sky, surrounded by a blanket of white. London really was beautiful this time of year. Winter was in the air.

It was a good distraction, looking at the holiday decorations. It staved off the boredom. It also helped keep his paranoia at bay.

Alex wondered up a crowded street; everyone around him dressed head to toe in winter gear. Alex himself was bundled up, more for show than any sense of cold. He had just returned from a mission in Yukon, Canada. There'd been ice and snow and biting wind and the Aurora Borealis lighting up the sky. London didn't quite compare.

His mission had gone smoothly - he'd actually finished up earlier than he had thought he would - but unfortunately, work had decided to come home with him. He had gotten within a block of his apartment, then spun a quick one eighty and called MI6. Someone had been staking out his apartment, Alex had no idea who. He had been certain that everyone on his mission had been dealt with. Apparently not.

MI6 said they would handle it, and wanted Alex out of the way until then. So he'd gone for a walk, winding up on a street that was built for weekend nights. Clubs and shops and pubs. Alex had gone here a few times with Jack, for shopping, and a few other time with Tom and some school mates, trying to talk their way into restricted nightclubs.

The memories here were fun, and innocent enough for Alex to reminisce over. But, of course, he couldn't afford to get lax.

He made a show of looking at the garlands on display in the boutique windows; he did his best to look like everyone else. Rosy cheeked and smiling. Wide eyed and wistful. Full of jovial Christmas spirit. Meanwhile he was checking his blind spot in the reflection of the glass.

A distorted image moved into view - Alex recognized the outline of a car. The vehicle slowed down to nil, inching along next to him. Alex wondered who would be so obvious in their observation of him? Either someone very poorly trained, or someone confident that they could outmatch Alex if he decided to run.

Probably the second, Alex decided. If it was the same person that had been staking out his apartment, Alex hadn't seen them so they must be decently trained. Also, they were in a car now. He was fast, but not that fast.

As casually as he could, Alex turned his head. He pretended to admire the lights that lined the streets again, and let his eyes drift to the car.

Perfectly white, and so spotless it was probably brand new. It blended in almost seamlessly with the background.

And sitting in the driver's seat, was Yassen.

Bloody typical.

Alex huffed, looking up and down the street. Yassen couldn't have possibly picked a more public place to pick him up. For that matter, Yassen hardly needed to show up unannounced. A simple text would have been easier than stalking him - because of course, it must have been Yassen staking out his flat earlier.

Seeing no one that was paying him any attention, he went to the passenger door and let himself in. His deduction that the car was new seemed to be correct - there was that distinct new car smell and the interior was as pristine as the exterior.

Yassen was blasting the heating. Alex started sweating the instant he got in. He didn't say anything until he had taken his winter clothes off (jacket, scarf, hat and gloves finding their way to a damp pile on the floor) and buckled up. He shifted so he was staring out his side window, not looking at Yassen.

He should be annoyed that Yassen had scared him earlier - so much so that he'd abandoned his flat to the mercy of MI6. He should be annoyed that Yassen hadn't called or texted, had just shown up.

But… he was _extremely_ pleased to see him. He didn't want him to know that, though. So he stared out at the snowy street, trying to keep the smile off his face, waiting for Yassen to take him somewhere.

The car stayed in park. Alex started to worry that other drivers would get annoyed.

A horn honked and Alex relented; looking over, he saw Yassen smiling at him faintly. Apparently in no rush.

"Better start moving. Traffic is bad enough without you holding people up," Alex stated, still trying hard not to smile.

Yassen reached over, running a hand over Alex's pink cheek. "I haven't seen you in a while, don't I at least get a kiss?"

Alex might have refused, just for the fun of being petty, but another horn blaring made him reconsider. Leaning over, he firmly pressed his lips to Yassen's. The assassin made no attempt to deepen the kiss, and parted when Alex decided to. Then he looked over Alex's shoulder with a frown.

"Friend of yours?" Yassen asked.

Alex almost gave himself whiplash, he turned so fast. Across the street, holding half a dozen shopping bags, was James Hale. A neat looking boy; clean cut brown hair with wide blue eyes. Wide, probably because he'd just watched his old school mate kiss a man that looked twice his age.

Alex hadn't been going to school since the mission in Cairo. He'd gone to America to cool down for a bit, but had found himself back in England a fortnight later. He'd had a string of tutors and ended up losing touch with most of his old school mates - sans Tom - when he'd moved away from Chelsea. Occasionally, he saw people he knew from school, but nowadays they didn't run in the same circles. And any chance meetings were always in passing - and never with someone he had known as well as James.

Alex remembered what it had been like that one year, trying to balance MI6 with school and failing miserably. Rumours had flown. People had said he was on drugs, in a gang and more.

He wondered what the rumour mill would spin out this time. James had never been one for gossip… but that didn't mean anything.

Whatever James decided to say, Alex should probably face it head on. Rumours didn't really affect him personally, he wasn't there to hear them after all, but that didn't mean it didn't affect his life. There was always a chance that his name being brought up again could mess with the anonymity he had cultivated. As a spy, that's not good. He had hoped he would fade to the background of his old classmates memories. It made things easier - it helped him stay invisible.

"I should probably go deal with that…" Alex reached for the door handle. There was a click, and the door locked.

"Oi!" He exclaimed, turning round on Yassen, "I need to-"

Yassen floored it down the street, the car nearly slipping on the snow.

* * *

/James/

James watched the car careen away, the colour of it camouflaging it into the background. Within seconds, he couldn't see it anymore - the deep tire treads it had left behind the only evidence that it had existed at all.

"James, honey?" He looked up, his mum and his sister had appeared from the store behind him, clutching more bags than he could count. "You ready to go home?"

James nodded, not saying anything. He tugged his scarf up, hoping it would hide the perplexed look on his face. His mum led the way to the street to hail a cab - his little sister grabbed his bare hand with her mitten-clad ones.

Sitting in the back of the taxi, he thought about what he had seen. He hadn't seen, or hell, even thought about Alex in a long time. Which was odd, since they'd once been such good friends. Best friends, in fact; him, Alex and Tom. The three musketeers. But after everything that had happened with Alex's uncle… then the disappearances… they'd grown apart. James had almost been glad when Alex had moved; at least, he thought it meant the end of trouble for a lot of people. Alex included.

He'd heard from a few of his classmates that Alex had come back - he'd biked past Alex's house one day, determined to speak to him. But the house looked unlived in, and he'd later decided that it was for the best. Alex had been his friend… but he'd also been dangerous.

Whatever Alex had said, he had known his mate hadn't really been sick. He also hadn't believed any of the gang or drugs nonsense. Really, he hadn't known what to think; and he had been too scared to ask Alex. His friend had never lied to him, but he'd had the feeling that if he asked, he wouldn't get the truth.

Now he wondered if he should have asked after all. Alex had always seemed the most capable of all of them - strong and smart and cunning and charming. But also curious, and a magnet for trouble. He wondered if Alex had gotten caught up in something he shouldn't have. Not a gang, not drugs, but maybe something worse. That man Alex had been with… had to have been at least twice their age, which probably said a lot about the relationship.

James wondered how long it had been going on. Since Ian died? Is this the explanation for Alex's absences? The bruises and injuries he collected? His old mate hadn't seemed too happy getting into the car, but that had changed quickly.

James looked at his mum, sitting in the car seat next to him. Should he say something? What if Alex was being… hurt. Abused. What if this man was taking advantage of him. That didn't seem to fit in Alex's character, but it had been a long time since James could claim to know who Alex Rider was.

In the end, he said nothing; too loyal to his old mate to speak out. He decided he'd give Alex a ring when he got home - assuming the cell number he had still went through - and get an explanation. Then he would decide if this was something that needed authoritative involvement.

He tried to put the predicament out of mind for the rest of the journey home. Easier said than done.

Since Alex had been out of his life, James had felt a lot of different emotions. He was sad, angry, furious, indifferent, worried and more. Then he had put Alex out of his mind. Until now.

* * *

/Alex/

He gave Yassen a final glare as he got out of the car. Tugging his jacket tighter around him, he made his way to the familiar house, leaving fresh footprints in the snow.

He heard the sound of a window rolling down and looked back.

"I can wait for you, if you want," Yassen called out from the car.

Alex shook his head, "This will probably take a while."

Yassen drove away, and he continued trudging to the front door. There was a light on in the family room, and shadows moved across the window when he knocked. The door opened seconds later.

"Hi, Mrs. Hale," Alex did his best to smile convincingly. He also pretended not to notice as James mother wiped the shocked look off her face.

"Alex - dear. It's… it's been a while," she smiled, slightly perplexed.

"Yes it has," he agreed, "is James home?"

"Yes, um, come on in dear. I'll call him." She moved out of the way, gesturing for Alex to walk past. He took her up on it, going into the warmth thankfully. The door was closed behind him, and he pulled off his coat.

"James, sweetie! Come down please!" Mrs. Hale called up the stairs.

"Coming!" There was a series of thuds, then rapid stomping as James stormed down the stairs. His old friend froze, one hand on the banister, looking down at him.

"Hey, James," Alex smiled and tossed his gloves on the bench. "Can we talk? I think I owe you a few explanations…"

* * *

/James/

"So… you're a spy?" James was lying on his bed, Alex sitting on the floor across from him - just like when they were kids. His mum had brought them a plate of fresh cookies and some hot cocoa - another childhood tradition.

"Yes." Alex fiddled with his thumbs, tilting his head at him.

"And… that man. He's an assassin?"

"Yes."

James nodded, processing. A lot of reactions came to mind (ranging from 'You're mad!' to 'I knew it!' to simply tackling Alex and punching him square in the face) but in the end, he believed him.

"You love him?" He asked. He was still doubtful about that - still felt like Alex was being duped somehow.

"Yes," Alex's voice was full of sincerity, "I do."

James nodded. He decided to keep quiet about his misgivings. After all, Alex dating an international assassin twenty years his senior wasn't nearly the most outrageous thing James had been told. From what he had heard, it wasn't this 'Yassen' person that had manipulated or abused him, but their own military intelligence agency. In fact, after all Alex had said, James felt he was more on the side of the assassin - which was pretty screwed up if you asked him.

"Who else knows about all this?"

Alex looked to the side, as if calling up past memories. "Not many. Tom and his brother Jerry know most of the story. I have a couple of friends and contacts - in the SAS and the CIA - that know a bit. I haven't told anyone about Yassen." Alex looked at him - was he nervous? "You can't say anything about this, James. Not to anyone. You _especially_ can never mention Yassen."

James had already guessed this, but he asked anyway, "Why not?"

"It could get a lot of people in trouble," Alex answered. "The people I work for, for starters. And Yassen. Yassen could end up dead if this got out."

"Alright, I'll keep it to myself."

* * *

The next day, James was going out with a few friends of his. A couple mates from school, one of them a girl that lived across the street from James - he rather fancied her, in fact.

He was just stepping out of his house, wrapping a scarf around his neck, when she appeared crossing the street.

"Hey!" He called, "You ready to go?"

"Absolutely! I've been dying to get out of the house, my brother is driving me mad." She smiled at him, falling in step beside him.

"My sister too, she's bouncing off the walls." In fact, his little sister had been peppering him with non stop questions about his visitor yesterday. His sister had had a bit of a crush on Alex when they were younger, and had been excited to see him again.

"Kids, right?" She laughed. "Oh by the way, I noticed someone leaving your house yesterday. Was that Alex Rider? Who used to go to Brooklands?"

James froze - and it had nothing to do with the weather. "Yeah it was, actually," he didn't see how he could lie about it. "He was just visiting. Wanted to catch up."

She nodded. "He was looking pretty good. Not sick anymore, is he?" She sounded sceptical - not many people had been convicted by the series of doctors notes and claimed ailments.

"No, he's doing good. Graduated early, actually. Even got himself a job."

"Oh really?" She sounded more surprised and politely interested than suspicious now, which was good. "What's he doing?"

James bit his tongue - on the brink of saying 'he's a spy!'. Not that he'd be believed.

"Oh… He's gotten into banking. Runs in the family, you know."

* * *

 **AN:**

Please leave your thoughts in the reviews! I do my best to incorporate any suggestions or prompt's that I receive, and I love hearing your ideas.


	14. Banking

**Warnings:** Slash, age gap, mentions of prostitution.

 **Rated:** T

Dedicated to the wonderful cuby18

* * *

/Alex/

Alex was at the bank.

Not the Royal and General Bank, no, a real bank - with real bankers and without the floors and floors of spies piled up above the lobby. A bank that, when they called and said there was a problem with his account, that's exactly what they meant. No code. No double meaning. Just banking.

He had decided, after Yassen had mentioned that it probably wasn't smart to let MI6 handle _all_ his assets, that he really shouldn't be keeping all his eggs in one basket. MI6 still controlled Ian's funds and everything Ian had owned, but Alex had been siphoning off his own pay checks, depositing them in different banks for security's sake.

He kept a rather low amount in this one, but it was still plenty compared to what most kids his age would have.

He walked through the revolving door, feeling bored already. It was a slow day - the slowest day of the week, he'd bet.

There was a young lady at the greeter's desk - trying her best to look perky and welcoming, while stifling a yawn behind her hand. A couple bankers at the main desk; one was helping a family that consisted of a father and two kids, a girl around Alex's age and a boy a few years younger. The other banker was attempting to conceal his irritation at a customer that was fumbling through her wallet and dropping cards. There was an annoyed looking couple standing behind her.

Alex walked up behind the man with the two kids, waiting his turn. The girl turned to glance at him, doing a double take then looking away when she realized he'd noticed. That was odd.

He pretended to be unaware of the girl blatantly eyeing him out of the corner of her eye. She looked familiar… Then it clicked into place - she'd been one of his classmates, back at Brooklands. They hadn't ever been in the same circle of friends, but he remembered James saying she was in his Geography class. His mate had pointed her out in the corridors one time. Alex and Tom had teased James about having a crush. He was pretty sure her name was Elizabeth. Like the Queen.

Alex examined her a moment longer before dismissing her: not a threat. Then his attention was distracted by the sound of the revolving doors. Looking over his shoulder, Alex froze. Here comes trouble.

The man that had just walked in was dressed casually enough, but his body language was the opposite. Plus, trained as he was, Alex could make out the outline of a gun at his hip. Four other men filed in behind him - clearly subtlety was not their strong suit.

The bored receptionist glanced up, panic spreading over her as she saw the first man drawing his gun. Her hand slipped under the table - probably aiming for a panic button - but it never arrived. The bullet was quicker, slamming point blank between her eyes. Faster than Alex could react, the woman was falling to the ground with a thud of finality.

"Everybody on the ground!" The man yelled, firing his gun once more into the air. It hit a glass chandelier that sent a shower of sparks and shards raining to the ground. That corner of the room was plunged into shadows.

Everyone in the bank was dropping to their knees, Alex followed suit, making sure his hands were in full view the whole time. The other men - robbers - had pulled out their own guns. A range of automatics and semi-automatics roving over their now-hostages.

Two men walked towards where Alex and the other family were kneeling. Him and the two other kids were quickly dismissed, the same way Alex had dismissed Elizabeth seconds earlier: not a threat.

A rough hand grabbed him and manhandled him to the side. Alex was deposited near the wall and told strictly (with a gun in his face) to stay put and to stay quiet. Then, he was told to hand over his cellphone.

Elizabeth and the other boy (her brother?) were given the same treatment.

Alex slipped his hand slowly into his jacket pocket, trying to look non-threatening. Easy enough, he was a kid after all. He fished out his MI6 issued phone, letting his thumb press on his own panic button on the side. He held it for three seconds before he handed it to the man.

The phones were promptly smashed, but Alex knew the signal would have already made it to Liverpool street. MI6 would be here soon. They just had to hold tight.

The masked men had moved on, separating the adults from them and putting them all in one corner. Two gunmen guarded them, fingers brushing the triggers if anyone so much as moved. Alex could feel the fear in the air, hot and stifling.

Reaching into his pocket - again very slowly - Alex closed his hand around his _other_ phone.

School had taught him a lot of things, but above all, it had taught him how to text without getting caught. He unlocked his phone with his thumb and opened it to the last person he had messaged. He sent off a quick paragraph to Yassen, letting him know what was happening, all while keeping his phone in his pocket.

The assassin was in town, he knew, finishing up a job. They were supposed to meet up tomorrow. It was worth keeping Yassen in the know.

Meanwhile, the other men had gone up to the till, yelling at the bankers to hand over all the money they had. Burlap sacks were being filled with hundred dollar bills. Alex could hear the rustling of paper, could hear the panting breath of the banker under threat.

Alex was worried at how trigger-happy the men seemed. They appeared to have calmed a bit, and Alex hoped that the bullet slinging was done. The important thing was that, if nobody moved, then nobody needed to die. Well, nobody else, Alex amended, looking at the receptionist with blood pooling around her long blond hair. That would be a pain to wash out for the funeral.

Alex had resigned himself to sitting on the floor until these madmen had left, but then, nothing can ever be that simple when he was involved, could it? Not even a bank robbery.

Someone moved. Alex didn't see who, but he saw as a gun was swung around and leveled. Heard as another gunshot blasted into the air. Heard Elizabeth next to him scream ' _dad!'_ and watched as she sprung to her feet.

Stupid.

Guns were trained on her in a second. Alex jumped to his feet, tackling Elizabeth to the ground just as a spray of bullets flew over head. People were advancing on them, and he realized that he needed to diffuse the situation. Fast. No time to wait for '6.

" _Ellie!_ " Alex vaguely heard the call as he crashed to the floor. He twisted, trying to shield Elizabeth from any more gunfire.

She twisted in his arms. He came face to face with her ashen, terrified expression. A little pained - and then Alex saw the blood. There was a stab of pain in his arm, and he realized they'd both been hit. He didn't know the extent of their injuries, he also didn't have time to check them out.

Dragging Elizabeth to her feet, he shoved her behind a counter. He heard himself tell her to stay put, but his mind and body were already miles ahead. Cold metal hit the palm of his hand as he yanked the loaded gun from the nearest man.

He aimed the gun upwards, letting off a few bullets. Each one hit it's mark, light's shattering into splinters of glass. People muffled their screams as the bank was plunged into darkness.

Alex adjusted quickly to the dark, disarming the men that were in reach. He swung the gun in his hand at head level, flooring one of the assailants. He was moving fast - trying to deal with all of them before another shot was fired.

For once, Alex got lucky. Another first - MI6 were on time. Doors flung open, daylight illuminating the blacked out bank. The agents made quick work of the would-be robbers.

Then Alex and the other customers were being ushered outside. A pretty white car had rolled to the curb of the bank. Alex took a quick glance around - made sure that none of the agents were paying him any heed. Then he bee-lined for the car.

He tumbled into the passenger seat, relief washing over him as he laid eyes on Yassen at last. The man said something - reached out to him and clamped a hand on his bicep. His palm came away red and slick. Yassen put Alex's hand over the cut - Alex had forgotten about the bullet wound, he hoped it wasn't too bad.

As they pulled away, Alex looked out the window. He spotted the girl - Elizabeth - two agents on either side, being carted to a nearby ambulance, and she spotted him. There were tears in her eyes - confusion and fright as well.

Then Yassen was wrapping an arm around him, pulling him to his side. He switched the car into gear, and Alex watched his old schoolmate disappear from sight.

This one was going to be hard to explain. He didn't think the 'sick' excuse would suffice anymore.

* * *

/James/

School was out.

He and Tom were wondering out the front doors, passing a large crowd of students. The events at the bank two days ago had spread quickly - people couldn't seem to stop talking.

Him and Tom came to a pause, letting the conversation wash over him.

"I heard it was a gang that robbed the place," Macy announced, snapping her gum and looking pleased with the attention she was getting. "So it's no wonder Rider was there. He was probably helping to case the place."

A few people snorted in disbelief, but more people were nodding along; thinking that made sense. Tom stifled a laugh.

"Well," Warren was talking now, smirking at Macy, "I heard that it was an inside job."

His girlfriend, Claire, nodded. "Didn't Ellie say that Rider was working at a bank now? He probably helped those guys!"

"Needed the extra cash for drugs, I reckon," another boy added. Nodding like his statement was pure fact. People murmured in agreement.

Then a voice rang out next to him: Tom. "Well, I heard that Alex is working for the government as an international spy. He was probably there to break up a crime ring."

There was a moment of silence - this was Tom Harris after all, Alex Rider's best mate. What better source of information could there be? Then the calm ended; someone snorted in laughter, breaking the spell of silence.

"Yeah, right. Good one Harris."

The attention drifted off Tom as everyone tried to add their two cents. Speculation over why Alex was there and what his motives were spread around campus. Each rumour was more farfetched than the last. Yet… none were as improbable as Alex being a spy. Because _that_ would be a step too far. _That_ would be impossible.

Eventually, and probably inevitably, the conversation drifted towards another enigma: Yassen Gregorovich.

Tom and he were the only ones that knew the full story about Alex and Yassen. James had only found out a few weeks ago, after bumping into Alex while Christmas shopping. Alex had insisted it stay a secret - but James had had a few demands of his own. He had never been as good as Alex at keeping secrets; he knew if he couldn't talk to someone, he'd explode.

So, he had told Alex to do what he should have done a long time ago. Tell Tom. James had been surprised that Alex's best mate hadn't already been in on the secret. Alex said he had wanted to protect his friend - keep him out of as much as he could - but James thought that Alex had been afraid.

He had to admit that the relationship was… unconventional. Alex was probably afraid that Tom wouldn't accept it.

But Alex had relented, letting James call Tom over. It had been oddly reminiscent of the friendship the three of them once held. Tom knew _all_ about dysfunctional relationship, and had easily accepted the idea of Yassen. Going as far as to tell Alex he wanted to meet Yassen, give him a 'talking to'. Alex had laughed at that.

But these people, their classmates, didn't know Alex. Not to the extent that he and Tom did. They _certainly_ didn't understand the relationship between him and Yassen.

"Probably another gang member." Was the typical theory.

"But Ellie said they looked quite… cozy."

"Gang members are sick. I wouldn't be surprised if they have a liking for that kind of thing."

"Maybe it was his pimp," a student called out, "keeping his investment safe."

"That's crazy!" One girl yelled in shock.

"Really?" Another boy - a long time bully and a right dickhead - jumped in. "Rider's probably been taking it up the arse since his uncle died. Maybe even before."

James was starting to feel uncomfortable, all this talk about Alex. Clearly, Tom felt the same. His mate flashed him a meaningful look, and they both turned and slipped away. Taking a quick census of the school, it was clear that similar thoughts were widespread.

Then, together, they started off the campus. Their classmates were all too absorbed in attempting to unravel the Great Alex Rider Conundrum to notice. They didn't even notice as they left their bikes chained and got into an unassuming black car.

* * *

/Alex/

"Thank you guys, for keeping me in the loop," Alex was walking his friends out of the Royal and General after the briefing. He was annoyed that MI6 had brought his mates into his messy spy life, he'd rather they stayed out of it and stayed safe. Still, he couldn't deny that it was useful to have ears on the ground.

James and Tom said their farewells, getting into the taxi Alex had called. They disappeared, and a familiar car took their place. Yassen was really taking a risk, pulling up right outside the Royal and General. Alex got in, noticing that the windows of _this_ car were sufficiently tinted.

With no prying eyes, Alex leaned over the emergency break and planted a kiss on the lips of his favourite assassin. As they left the bank behind, Alex thought about all Tom and James had told him.

Alex had wanted to stay as separated from the minds of Brookland's student body as possible… but there was little chance of that now. The best they could do at this point was to make sure the rumours didn't hit too close to home.

* * *

 **AN:**

Writing these last couple of chapters was a welcome challenge - if anyone has any suggestions, feel free to send them my way! Review please!


	15. Love Is My Drug

**Warnings:** Slash, age gap, sex, depression and mentions of suicidal thoughts.

 **Rated:** M

*I have a few friends that struggle with PTSD, depression and anxiety, but I myself have never experienced these first hand experience. I do not mean for this to be offensive or ignorant, so please forgive any and all inaccuracies. I did my best, but I am not a professional.

* * *

It had been thundering on and off for nearly a week. Alex loved the rain - he had learned to appreciate the London weather after weeks of being abroad. Sun and sand was fun and all, but it wasn't home.

Right now, though, Alex was less than appreciative. He had been on leave for days, and would continue to be for another week at least. The thunderstorm meant that he was mostly stuck inside the flat. It made him antsy.

So when he got a phone call from Yassen, Alex dove for it.

"Hello?" It had to be the first word he'd spoken in days.

"Alexander," he smiled at the sound of Yassen's voice. He'd always protested the use of his full name, but Yassen always said it like it was the only name in the world. "Want to come over?"

Alex almost cheered. He couldn't wait to get out of here. "I can be at the hotel in twenty minutes."

"Not the hotel. There's a cab waiting outside, it knows where to go."

Alex hummed with amusement. "Mysterious… alright, I'll see you soon."

He hung up and made his way to his bedroom. He grabbed his go-bag and double checked that it was full.

He saw a few days worth of clothing, toiletries, some gadgets, money, a small white bottle and whatever else Alex might need in a pinch.

Picking up the bottle, Alex gave it a shake. Mostly full still, and expiration wasn't for nearly a year. He was set. He folded the bottle into one of his sweaters, laying it near the top. Hidden but accessible.

Jacket and boots on, Alex was outside and dodging the storm all the way to the awaiting taxi. The cabbie didn't say a word, just started driving.

It was quite a distance, by the time they stopped the downpour had lulled into a light drizzle. Alex got out and the cab pulled away without any payment on Alex's part.

The destination was a small house in a middle class district. Looked about two floors, maybe with a small attic. Probably no basement, the area they were in was prone to flooding.

Alex walked straight up to the front door, there wasn't a porch or veranda or any front steps. He didn't bother knocking - Yassen was expecting him - he pushed open the heavy red door and let himself in.

"Honey, I'm home!" Alex called out, letting the door fall shut behind him. He kicked his boots off and hung his jacket.

"Put your bag in the room!" The call came from upstairs, which Alex could now see wasn't a proper level, more like a loft, but he could see the bedroom was on the ground floor.

To the left of the foyer was a living room and to the right a kitchen/dining room. The two bottom floor rooms were separated by a small wooden staircase that really looked closer to a ladder. The bedroom was through the living room.

Inside was a queen sized bed shoved in one corner, a desk with nothing on it and chair in the other. It looked in the midst of being moved into; actually, to Alex, it looked in the midst of being moved out of. There was also an en suite bathroom and some shelves, mostly the room was bare. Unlived in.

Alex tossed his bag next to a matching duffle that must belong to Yassen.

He moved back out, collapsing on the couch in front of the tele. One wall was made up mostly of windows; Alex watched the rain come to a precarious halt while he flicked through channels mindlessly.

A minuscule creek alerted Alex to Yassen's approach. He didn't look up, but felt the assassins presence next to him. A kiss found its way to Alex's cheek and he couldn't help but smile.

Yassen pulled away, but Alex caught him by the back of the neck and brought him in for a proper kiss.

"How was Romania?" Yassen asked idly, hopping over the back of the couch and positioning himself behind Alex.

Alex shifted, getting comfortable, leaning back against Yassen's chest. "Bad enough that '6 put me on mandatory leave."

"Lucky for me." Yassen nosed the back of his neck, warm breath sending shivers down his spine.

"And you?" Alex asked, "Last I heard you were in New Zealand. What brings you to England?"

Another kiss. "Just thought I'd visit my favourite spy," Yassen whispered. "Also, I had a bit of real estate business."

"Mhmm," Alex hummed, "the house. I like it, but why no hotel?"

"I just thought it would be nice to have something a bit more… permanent."

The insinuation had Alex blushing, he was glad Yassen couldn't see his face.

Once his blood had cooled and the rouge disappeared, Alex turned to plant a kiss on Yassen's lips.

Permanent sounded excellent to him.

Yassen's mouth parted with little prompt, and pretty soon Alex's blood was boiling again - just not in his cheeks.

Alex shifted so he was straddling Yassen's thighs, rubbing his hands up and down a strong chest. A word of pleasure past from Yassen's lips to his own. Hands roamed around his hips, pulling him closer and flipping them both so Alex lay on his back.

Suddenly impatient, Yassen didn't even bother removing their clothing; just shoved Alex's trousers down to his knees and opening his own at the fly.

Their movements were rough and awkward, ending in them falling right off the sofa, Alex landing on Yassen's chest with a thud.

They made quick work of each other - it wasn't pretty, though Alex was pleased to see that Yassen was quite a bit messier than he was.

One could say that Alex quite literally came out on top.

Alex pushed off Yassen's shoulder, climbing back on the couch and tugging his pants up along the way. The noise of a zipper preceded the appearance of Yassen off the floor. Sitting up, the assassin gave Alex a look of annoyance at the state he'd been left in.

"I'm going to fetch a new shirt," Yassen declared.

Alex eyed the mess staining Yassen's top from collar to hem. "Yeah… no kisses for you till you're clean."

He received an affronted look before Yassen vanished into the bedroom, shirt off before he'd even disappeared from sight.

Alex smiled idly to himself, thinking of how much he would enjoy the rest of his leave.

* * *

/Yassen/

He tossed his soiled shirt into the laundry hamper and snatched his bag off the floor. He pulled out the first top he saw - a grey jumper - and moved to clean himself up in the bathroom.

The weight in his hand shifted and something clattered to the floor.

"You okay in there?" Alex called from the other room.

"Fine!" Yassen replied distantly.

He looked down in confusion, watching a white object roll under the bed. Examining his jumper, he realized it wasn't his at all. Well, it was, or at least it had been. He recalled the last time he had seen Alex, dropping the boy off at an airport in Lyon; Alex had been wearing the jumper, one of Yassens. He must have picked up the wrong bag by mistake.

Tossing the sweater onto the bed, Yassen got down on his knees to peer under the bed. The object had come to a stop just in the shadows. He reached under and pulled it out, moving to toss it back in Alex's bag.

Before he could, something caught his eye; writing on the side of what he now saw was a bottle. Bright red letters spelling out the word: Warnings.

 _Warnings: Possible side effects may include nausea, fatigue and drowsiness, insomnia, blurred vision, dizziness, agitation, irritability, anxiety…_

And the list went on.

Underneath was another bolded warning.

 _Children, adolescents, and young adults with major depression or other psychiatric disorder's who take antidepressants may be at increased risk of suicidal thoughts and behavior._

Yassen stopped in his tracks. He'd expected painkillers. Alex often got injured on missions, and while Yassen hadn't heard of him being hurt on his latest excursion, he wouldn't have been surprised if Alex kept a bottle of pain pills with him. But these weren't pain pills.

"Alex?" He called out in a 'come here' voice without really thinking about it.

There was the sound of movement and then Alex appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a curious look.

"Yes?" Alex was eyeing his bare chest with light confusion.

In way of an answer, he held out the bottle in his hand. He saw the frown pass over Alex's face, replaced by a look of stone.

* * *

/Alex/

"Why are you going through my things?" Was the first thing he thought to ask, though he realized that wasn't entirely fair of him.

Yassen had been through his things before, he'd never minded. He went through Yassen's stuff as well. Neither of them ever cared if the other borrowed something - Alex could distinctly recall a few articles of clothing and random toiletries that he had never bothered to return.

"Why are you taking antidepressants? Why didn't you tell me?" Yassen sounded angry, but also clearly concerned and maybe a bit hurt.

Alex frowned, caught off guard by the whole situation. Why hadn't he told Yassen? He wasn't sure.

"I didn't think to," he answered, though it wasn't the truth. He had thought about it. Many times. He had had plenty of chances to - sure, they hadn't seen eachother in person in a while, but they spoke on the phone and over text often enough. It would have been simple for Alex to mention it. Yet he had never done it, never managed to bring it up.

Now Yassen was frowning. He didn't say anything, but Alex could tell what he was thinking:

I thought I was more important to you than that.

The disappointment in Yassen's eyes burned, and suddenly Alex felt the need to put a barrier between himself and those icy eyes. "I don't have to tell you everything," he stated. It came out harsher than he meant it to.

"No," Yassen said, voice tight and rising, "you don't have to do anything. God knows I can't make you."

Alex clenched his teeth; he could almost hear the scraping of his molars.

Nothing Yassen was saying was wrong - and really, none of it was particularly harsh - but Alex could read between the lines. Yassen was a lot more angry than he let on. Probably rightfully - after all this time, Yassen was entitled to certain knowledge of Alex's life - but he still felt the need to justify himself. Even if he knew he was wrong.

"I didn't think it was important." Alex pointedly refused to apologize, which Yassen must have noticed.

"Of course it's important, Alex! Have you read this? Adolescent's may be at increased risk of suicidal thoughts and behaviour. Don't you think I should know if I'm going to find you slitting your wrists in the bathroom?" Yassen was frustrated. Near yelling.

"I'm not suicidal, Yassen. But you aren't exactly helping the matter," he snapped, feeling rather heated. He wasn't entirely sure why he was getting so worked up about this - but then, he also wasn't sure why Yassen was either.

"This is not my fault, Alexander." Yassen tossed the bottle on the bed (a little harsher than necessary) and clenched his fists at his side and Alex saw just how pissed the assassin was; he was holding himself back.

Yassen had never laid a hand on Alex, for a second though, Alex could see that he wanted to. Yassen was an assassin; sometimes it was easy to forget that he - that both of them - were violent people by nature. He took a step back.

"You need to tell me these things, Alexander. I need to know."

Alex inched closer to the door, suddenly feeling like the aggressive atmosphere was oppressive; suffocating him. "It wasn't any of your business."

Yassen unclenched his fists, gesturing with his hands and taking a step towards Alex. "You are my business, Alex."

Alex felt hot tears well in his eyes. He honestly didn't know why he was being so awful about this. He should have told Yassen, he knew that. He was in the wrong here.

He wasn't even sure why he hadn't told Yassen before. The man knew about his nightmares, his anxiety, all the injuries he'd received, why should this be different?

Because it was different. This wasn't Yassen figuring things out himself, this was Alex actively including Yassen in his life. Asking for help and making Yassen a part of… what? His family? Alex didn't have a great track record with family, and Yassen was more than that anyway.

He loved Yassen, and that terrified Alex. Everyone he had ever loved turned out dead or gone.

Maybe that was it. If it was Alex bringing this to Yassen, then that was that. He wouldn't be able to pretend that it was just fun, that he'd passed 'fun' ages ago and had fallen head over heels in love. It was one thing to be in love, even to say he was in love, it was a whole other challenge to show it. Alex wasn't great at expressing love of all things.

If he included Yassen in his life the way he should, he would have to admit it was real, that they were in this. And then Yassen would leave or die or disappear like everyone else. No, easier to push people away than to be pushed away. Less painful in the long run.

"What I do is none of your business, Yassen. I don't love you and I don't need you. I can take care of myself."

* * *

/Yassen/

He flinched back as if Alex had dealt a physical blow. He could see the lie in every word, see the lack of conviction in Alex's face, but it still hurt to hear the words.

The amount of times that Alex had told him that he loved him could be counted on one hand, but Yassen had known Alex meant them each time.

The amount of times he'd told Alex the same thing was a bit more, but not by much. Considering how long they'd been together, it could be seen as odd that they didn't say 'I love you' more. But considering their professions, maybe not. They never said it over text or the phone, only in person. Most of the time they didn't even need to say it; it was an unspoken truth.

"You don't mean that," his voice was quiet and soft, all the anger drained right out of him.

Alex broke eye contact, looking like he was forcing back tears. The boy turned away. Walked away.

Yassen reached out, wrapping his hand around Alex's wrist. Maybe he'd moved a little too fast, grabbed Alex a little too hard; Yassen knew better, Alex was a jumpy spy and Yassen was smart enough to know not to startle him. But he'd forgotten.

He didn't even see the hit coming. One second Alex was facing the door, all but storming out; the next second his face was stinging and Alex was staring at him looking horrified.

Then Alex turned and ran, didn't even stop long enough to put his boots on, just snatched them off the rug and slung his jacket over his shoulder. Then… gone. Without another word or look or even a hesitation.

Yassen felt like he'd been shot in the chest. Again.

* * *

/Alex/

Alex paused just outside the door, letting it slam shut behind him. His breath came in heavy pants, his heart beating erratically to match.

He listened for a moment, waiting for Yassen to call him back, to come get him. It was silent. Alex shook his head to himself; he wasn't a child, he didn't need someone to come after him. He made his own choices.

The thoughts didn't stop him from wanting to cry. He looked at his hand, still smarting with the force that he'd used. He was horrified. Of course Yassen wasn't coming after him - he'd decided to push Yassen away and he'd succeeded. Years of affection for the man, and he'd tossed it away.

It didn't feel much like a win.

Looking up at the ominously grey sky, he was thankful that the clouds hadn't broken again; he would have been royally screwed, standing there without a jacket or boots on.

Alex tugged his boots on, doing up the laces loosely, and pulled on his jacket.

His flat was a long way from here, nearly on the opposite side of London. Yassen had probably planned it that way, for security purposes. Wouldn't want to be too close to MI6's prying eyes.

But now it was quite the inconvenience. Yassen had ordered the cab that took him here, now Alex was stuck.

He had the money for a cab, sure - but in a residential area, there wouldn't be any taxi's for him to hail. He couldn't call a cab, he'd left his cellphone in the house.

So that left one option, the main road was a good half an hour walk from here, but he could catch a cab there.

Alex started walking, stubbornly refusing to look back at the house. He flicked his hood up just as the first drops of rain started to fall. Pretty soon, all he could hear was the clap of thunder and the pattering of rain.

* * *

Alex paused for a moment in front of the door with the icy rain washing off his hood and pooling around his boots. He bit his lip, tasting his own salty tears.

He had regretted leaving the second he'd stepped away from the house, but had stubbornly walked on. Not even the rain, that had started pouring within seconds of his departure, managed to stop him.

He'd walked halfway across London with a knot of guilt in his stomach. At some point, he noticed he had turned around. Was right back where he started, at the end of the driveway of Yassen's quaint house.

Now, starring at the red door of their quaint little house, he couldn't bring himself to even knock.

He'd never considered himself a coward… but Alex had certainly felt braver than he did just now.

He sighed - a noise that couldn't be heard over the pounding rain - pushing back his hood, he let the water droplets soak his hair and stream down his face.

He hoped the cool water would wipe away his tears.

Alex stared hard at the door. Stood there long enough for the rain to find its way down his collar to his shirt. The material got damp against his skin and the cold of the night finally hit him.

Still, he stood there until his face went numb from the constant assault of raindrops; until his teeth began to chatter and trembles racked his body intermittently.

When he managed to steel himself enough to knock, he told himself it was only so he wouldn't freeze to death on Yassen's stoop.

* * *

/Yassen/

There was a knock - unsteady and barely audible over the thunderstorm, but it was there. He placed the bottle on the bedside table, the small tap of plastic on wood seeming to pass over him like a sonic boom.

When he stood up, his legs threatened to give out there and then. Somehow he managed to get out of the room and to the door; he went to turn the deadbolt before remembering that Alex hadn't locked it behind him.

Yassen didn't hesitate in opening the door - the handle slammed into the wall and he had to put out a hand to stop it from flying back at him on the rebound.

On the other side of the door was Alex - looking travel weary and tired, blond locks having gone dark with the rain that soaked every inch of his trembling body.

Alex's head was tilted up, light from the room reflected off the water caught on his eyelashes.

Yassen bit the inside of his cheek, looking at Alex with a torrent of emotions.

Alex was over half a head shorter than him, with not much more to go, but it had never affected him. Alex always had to look up at him, but Yassen had never felt like the young spy could be overshadowed or looked down upon - Alex Rider was a force to be reckoned with.

But just this second, Alex looked small. He looked years younger than he really was, and decades younger than what his experience added up to. The way Alex looked at him reminded Yassen of a young boy pulled into a world he didn't belong to; a boy he had met years ago and had told to get out. Like a little kid in way over his head.

Alex hadn't looked that way since he was fourteen, standing alone on a rooftop.

He reached out a hand, fingers sinking into the material of Alex's jacket. Pulling gently, he led Alex a few steps into the house.

Then they just stood there, with the door wide open - Alex dripping from the rain and ruining his hardwood floors, Yassen trying to work through several emotions that he only ever felt with the boy standing in front of him.

Life was never this hard when Yassen was alone.

Yassen leaned around Alex's still form to shut the door - the noises from the harsh elements muffled slightly. He looked into Alex's sweet brown eyes, trying to gauge his line of thought, and placed a hand on his chest.

A flit of uncertainty crossed Alex's face. Yassen felt the pressure against his hand disappear as Alex stepped back, stopping against the door.

He followed, coming to a stop within inches of Alex's body. He put a hand firmly on the door, just in case Alex tried to run again. Yassen wasn't letting him get away again.

Otherwise, he didn't touch Alex in any way. Just stood and watched the water roll down Alex's face, down his jacket. Felt the cold radiating off Alex from a distance. He waited until Alex let his guard down. The boy looked at him with wide eyes, as vulnerable as Yassen had ever seen him.

Reaching up with his free hand, Yassen used his sleeve to rub away the water on Alex's face. He dashed away the droplets under big brown eyes, and let his hand rest on Alex's cheek.

Alex tilted his head, pressing the side of his face to Yassen's open palm.

He watched Alex bite his bottom lip - a habit that Yassen would usually find sexy, but instead made him want to wrap Alex up and cuddle him.

Instead, he settled for running his thumb along Alex's cheek bone. He wasn't sure anymore contact would be welcome.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He tried to say more, but his voice caught in his throat. Yassen hadn't felt like crying until just that moment.

"I'm sorry, too," Alex's voice sounded so small, like it shouldn't even be able to fill up the space between them. "I should have told you."

Yassen shook his head, "I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't," he apologized again. He got the feeling he'd be apologizing a lot, but that was okay. Alex needed to know he wasn't alone. Yassen had been pissed that Alex hadn't said anything about the pills, but that couldn't be changed. Now, he wanted Alex to be able to talk to him.

"I just-" Alex hesitated, leaning into Yassen's hand even more, "I didn't want you to look at me differently. It's a weakness and… I'm not used to sharing those."

He understood, of course he did. Alex had been used and abused for most of his life. Trusting was hard. He also caught the underlying message: Yassen himself was a weakness to Alex, it was in the spy's nature to try and distance himself from that weakness. "Alexander. Just because you have a weakness, doesn't make you weak. And I have never seen you as such."

"I know." Alex nodded and averted his eyes. He said he knew, but Yassen didn't think he did. Not fully.

Yassen trailed his hand down to Alex's chin, tilting it until Alex looked at him again. "Everyone has weaknesses. Everyone."

Alex smirked - not with his usual flare, but getting there. "Even you?"

He dragged his fingers down farther, slowly unzipping Alex's jacket. The wet material fell to the floor in a sodden pile.

"Do you even need to ask?" Yassen looked deep into Alex's intelligent eyes; eyes that didn't miss a thing. Alex knew the answer, he just needed to hear it. "You, Alex Rider, will always be my biggest weakness."

Alex gave him a look - like a thank you and an apology rolled in one. The boy worked his feet out of his boots and Yassen picked him up, trying to keep his feet dry.

He leaned his forehead against Alex's, sharing the boy's air. Legs wrapped around his hips as he pressed Alex against the door. He pressed a kiss to cold lips - just regaining their colour from the chill of the outdoors. It wasn't a proper kiss, just the brush of lips as Yassen tested the waters.

* * *

/Alex/

Alex wrapped arms tightly around his neck and Yassen carried him - not to the bedroom, surprisingly, but to the upstairs loft. Walking slowly and shedding clothing along the way.

Alex's socks, shirt and belt had disappeared by the time he got to the top of the stairs. Alex broke the kiss for a second to look around.

It was… amazing. If the downstairs looked unlived in, the upstairs was the opposite: well loved and cozy. There was a huge, king sized bed in the middle of the back wall. There were no windows, but above the bed was a skylight. The roof was ridden with fairy lights, making it look like stars in the sky. There were mismatched couches and armchairs, of all different colours and patterns. The wooden floors were covered in soft rugs.

Yassen tossed back the covers of the bed, and gently lowered Alex to silk sheets.

Soft kisses brushed against his cool skin. Everywhere Yassen touched felt like a summer afternoon, lounging in the sun.

Yassen undressed him with an exaggerated gentleness - waiting until Alex urged him before removing the next item of clothing.

Each new article that found its way off Alex's body exposed a strip of skin that Yassen was determined to investigate. Lips and hands roamed every inch of him - touches so light that Alex could barely distinguish them from the air surrounding him.

Yassen didn't try anything, not even once every bit of clothing between them had been removed. Alex watched Yassen explore his body with a kind of curiosity and awe that made him feel just a little bit flattered.

It wasn't until he pulled Yassen down, fitting their hips together himself that Yassen finally relented. He received a soft look and his bedmate reached back to pull up the covers around them.

Alex's heart wrenched - right then, he wanted nothing more than to be as close to Yassen as humanly possible.

Yassen had other plans, however. It would seem he wanted to take it slow. Never Alex's strong suit. Hands ran up his inner thigh, and Alex parted his legs, securing them around Yassen's waist and back.

Fingers from one hand intertwined in his hair, brushing stray locks from his face as the other hand danced down his spine. The pad of one finger pressed against his hole, using just enough pressure to stay outside of him.

Alex shifted in protest and felt fingers slip inside him. He tried to relax, even as every muscle wanted to tighten in pleasure.

Yassen stretched him for an unbearably long time. Working him into a daze. They didn't usually do much foreplay once they got in the bedroom, preferring to make the most of however long that they had. Right now though? Yassen was taking his sweet time.

When Yassen finally pushed inside him, it was with a slow burn that made his toes curl. Alex felt the pressure travel up his body, constricting his heart.

Even with the length of time Yassen had spent preparing him, he felt like he might burst. His hands dragged through the sheets, finding no purchase on the silk fabric. Instead he reached up, grasping at the headboard in hopes of finding support.

For the first few seconds, Yassen didn't even move. Alex didn't either, still trying to find his way off Cloud Nine. It was when his heartbeat had returned to a steady pace that Yassen moved.

Shifting even deeper, which Alex hadn't even realized was possible. Alex nearly cried out, but stifled himself to a dulled moan. Yassen, like any good assassin, had perfect aim. Stars shot across his vision as Yassen pushed against just the right spot.

Alex moved his hands from the bed above him to Yassen's back, trying to make the assassin move closer - faster, harder, anything.

Yassen ignored his wordless pleas, choosing to simply roll his hips against Alex's. The effect was breathtaking - Alex couldn't tell if he was losing his breath, or if it was being stolen.

* * *

/Yassen/

Alex's eyes slipped shut. Pink lips parted in an attempt to get some desperately needed air. Little puffs of breath escaped Alex's mouth between delicate kisses.

Yassen shifted slightly, eliciting a groan of pleasure from his bedmate. He pressed his lips to the side of Alex's neck, tongue darting out and teeth nipping gently.

His ear was positioned just next to Alex's mouth; he listened to heavy breaths, letting Alex's rhythm wash over him. Letting the sensation of hands exploring his back and shoulders and arms lull him.

Every once in awhile, a shallow mumble would escape the boy lying beneath him. At first, Yassen assumed the words were nonsensical expressions of contentment. Listening closer, he could hear the soft whisper of his name.

Sometimes in a pant of arousal. Accompanied by the curl of toes or the digging in of fingernails.

Sometimes like a raw plea, and Alex was never known to beg.

Sometimes… God, sometimes Alex whispered his name like a prayer. Like Yassen was the air to be breathed. Like it was the only word Alex knew.

In that moment, Yassen knew Alex loved him. He could hear it in each syllable, each letter of his name. It sung out to him - this one noise, this one moment, was just for him. It was better than hearing those three words could ever be. Nothing else Alex said could possibly compare to the love in that one word.

Yassen didn't even think Alex knew he was doing it. It didn't matter. He knew that Alex meant it.

The next time his name was being formed on Alex's lips, he covered the boy's mouth with his own. Swallowing the word and pressing his tongue against the roof of Alex's mouth before retreating.

Alex closed his teeth gently around Yassen's bottom lip - not a sharp bite, but a tender pull. Sucking Yassen's lip into his mouth.

He could feel himself getting closer; could feel Alex being pushed to the edge. Each touch sent chemicals running through his bloodstream.

He rolled his hips - carefully bring Alex to the brink of orgasm. Just as fingers tightened their hold on Yassen, as a mouth opened to shout, he backed off. Letting Alex down from his high.

His partner moaned in what could only be described as despair. He listened to Alex's breath hitch, felt a shiver run from head to toe. Alex whimpered, turning his head to the side.

Pressing a kiss to the pulse of Alex's neck, he did it again. Leisurely working Alex to a seemingly insurmountable high, before gradually letting him down. His soft touches never enough to push Alex over the edge.

He did it a few more times until Alex was gasping his name - jumbling it with pleas and praises.

Finally, he brought Alex to the precipice for the last time. Holding a steady pace there, calm thrusts that neither brought Alex down, or pushed him onwards.

Then Yassen moved Alex slightly, positioning the flexible body to just the right angle. He pushed in smoothly, fluently. Muscles squeezed around him, lighting his veins on fire.

Alex called his name as they both came in each other's arms. He wasn't sure, but Yassen thought he'd cried out Alex's name as well.

They both wound down, Yassen could feel Alex's heart rate where their chests were pressed together. He pulled out as slow and gentle as he'd pushed in - finding it easier with the new found slickness. They were both going to need a shower later. A long one.

He lay there, looking down at Alex. He let as much of their bodies touch as he could, holding the boy close.

Outside, thunder rumbled and lightning struck. The flashes of lightning lit up the room intermittently from above, turning Alex's ray of hair into a golden halo.

Alex's eyes opened, brown orbs filled with wonder. They sparkled and dimmed repeatedly as the lighting changed. He looked like an angel - fallen or otherwise.

* * *

/Alex/

Every nerve ending felt like it had been electrified - charged up to the breaking point, and allowed to break.

Alex felt broken. As if he'd been taken apart like lego. He was falling apart, barely even breathing. Yassen was looking at him like he was a fallen angel - like he was something so unearthly beautiful, but just a little bit broken.

His heart twisted, his chest constricted. He found himself crying into Yassen's shoulder as he held him close under the silk sheets that had been draped around him so lovingly.

The tears came silently - accompanied by nothing more than a trembling breath.

He pulled back, head resting against the pillow behind him. Yassen wiped the tears from his cheeks like he'd wiped the rainwater away earlier.

"Alex?" Yassen spoke the same moment that an act of God lit up the room.

"It's just…" Alex shook his head, running his hands over Yassen's shoulders simply to have something to do. "When you touch me like that… I feel like glass. Like one touch and I'll fall apart. Makes it tough to pretend I'm alright."

Yassen kissed him, holding him captive long past the point of needing air.

"You aren't alright, Alex, you don't have to pretend otherwise."

* * *

 **AN:**

As always, comments and reviews are much appreciated! Tell me your thoughts!


	16. Honey Trap

**Warnings:** Slash, age gap, sex, blackmail.

 **Rated:** T/M

Dedicated to Op-fan, who gave me the idea for this chapter. I adore reading all your reviews, they honestly make my day! Hope you enjoy this chapter, and thanks for reading!

* * *

/Alex/

They were so totally absolutely definitely without a doubt one hundred percent _freaking screwed_. And that was coming from Alex, who was an expert in 'screwed'. In more than one sense of the word.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He could admit he was panicking. Alex had been in a lot of abysmal situations; panic was a familiar emotion, fear helped sharpen the mind. But he never usually expressed his nerves so… visibly. His palms were sweaty, his hands were shaking, his heart was racing. He had bitten his lip until a pinprick of blood had welled up. Had barely restrained from biting his nails down to the bed.

He supposed it was because this was the first time he had needed to fool someone that knew him so well.

He needed to calm down. He was about to walk into a hotel to meet Yassen; if he didn't get a grip on himself, Yassen would see right through him.

* * *

/Yassen/

Yassen was lounging by the poolside, basking in the sun. Outwardly, he was calm and relaxed. Inwardly, he was beginning to get worried. A glance at his wristwatch told him that Alex should have arrived twenty minutes ago. Alex wasn't one to be late - and if he ever was, Alex was sure to always let him know.

He was more than half prepared to go looking for him (not that he would know where to find him) but just as he was gearing up to go, his worries were eased. Alex appeared in the doorway to the hotel. He was dressed casually, in blue jeans and a dark red shirt; he also had sunglasses covering his eyes. He looked a little paler than usual - odd because Yassen was sure his last mission had been in sunny California state - but his smile was sure and inviting.

Walking across the deck, Yassen greeted his lover with a customary kiss. Was it his imagination, or was Alex a little less enthusiastic than usual? Maybe the mission was tougher than Yassen had first thought.

"Are you alright?" He asked, concerned.

The reassuring smile came just a little too quickly, but it looked genuine enough. "I'm fine, a little tired. Can we go to the room?" Yassen nodded and led the way. Into the lobby, up the elevator.

Yassen had booked a penthouse suit - reminiscent of the early days of their relationship. Now, they stayed at the house Yassen owned more often than not, but for some reason Alex had insisted on a hotel today. Not their typical hotel either; one outside of the city. Alex claimed that he needed the peace and quiet, but Yassen was beginning to get the feeling that something was wrong.

Ignoring the notion, he grabbed Alex's hand in the abandoned corridor. Alex squeezed his hand - it could have been nothing, but Yassen almost thought Alex was bracing himself for something. Or perhaps it was a warning.

Just before they got to the room, Yassen wrapped an arm around Alex's waist. Using his entire body (and the element of surprise), he launched the smaller body against the wall. Alex looked up at him, shocked, pinned between Yassen's arms.

"Alexander," Yassen placed his forehead on Alex's, "Is there something you aren't telling me?"

Alex hesitated, a look crossed his face, like a child who'd been caught doing something naughty. Then he nodded. "Yes… Yassen, I need you to come into the room with me." Alex's eyes were scared and sincere - it was the scared part that pushed Yassen into action.

Letting Alex gently away from the wall, he followed him through the door to the suit.

Inside, the room was the same as any other the two of them had been in. He shut the door behind them, and when he turned around, Alex was there. In his arms, against his lips, hands pulling on his clothes.

"What are you doing?" He whispered. He didn't know what was going on, and Alex wasn't saying anything.

"Please…" Alex trailed off, pressing soft kisses to Yassen's collar bone. He relented. Whatever was going on, it seemed like Alex needed this. Badly.

Leaning forward, he captured Alex's face between his hands, bring it up for a proper kiss. Alex allowed him, but as soon as he parted for air, Alex averted his eyes; tilting his head, Alex ran smooth lips down the side of his neck. It was like Alex was having a hard time looking Yassen in the face.

Yassen wished he could say he found it difficult to get in the mood, what with Alex's mind clearly not being on the task. But, then he would be lying. In reality, it was easy for Yassen to fall into their practices rhythm. Alex's heart wasn't quite in it, but that was made up for in pure skill and years of dedicated practice. Everything they did was second nature by now.

Every time lips locked with his, his mind went blank. When Alex's hands touched his bare skin, he forgot any misgivings he had. Alex was just as mind blowing as any other time.

They fell back on the bed, Alex had shoved the canopy aside, leaving the bed exposed to the rest of the room. He wanted to ask about that, but then his shirt was being pulled up and he was being shoved into the mattress.

Alex paused, once again, to pull the covers up over them. Again, odd, because it was summer and the room was warm enough.

"What's going on?" He asked, whispering in little more than a breath into Alex's ear.

"Trust me." It sounded like an order, a question and a plead all in one. It was the pleading that tipped it for him.

He let Alex run his hands between them; shirt, trousers, pants all came off and were placed carefully within arms reach. Alex leaned forward, pressing soft lips to his collarbone. He ran his fingers up Alex's spine, resting it at the base of his neck. Alex shifted forward more, chin finding support on Yassen's shoulder, eyes looking behind Yassen at the mattress. Yassen kissed the side of Alex's neck.

Tension slowly seeped from Alex as they moved against each other, and soon Alex was moaning in his ear. Yassen stared up at the canopy and the bedposts above him. He shifted, moving up the bed slightly to rest against the mound of pillows behind him.

Past Alex, the room was getting dark. They had left the lights off, and outside, the sun was setting. He would need to leave soon…

His eyes flickered back to Alex, before darting over his shoulder again. What was that? Something had caught his attention…

He let his eyes skim from wall to wall. There - by the door, directly across from them. A metallic glint. A small speck reflecting the red light of the setting sun, completely unnoticable unless you looked directly at it.

He felt his body tense by a degree - Alex felt it too.

"Don't look," he said under his breath, "pretend you don't see it."

Yassen looked away. He said nothing.

Is that why Alex was acting so oddly? Was somebody… watching them? That certainly put a stopper in the mood.

He focused on Alex, on his bronze skin and sun bleached hair. On his brown eyes, so dark in the shadows that Yassen couldn't see where his iris's ended and pupil began. He focused on the small mole on his collarbone, just on the edge of an old scar. He focused on anything that wasn't that glowing red dot.

It worked, to a degree. The hairs on his arms were still raised at the thought of eyes on them, but he didn't show his unease. He just focused on Alex until they finished in each others arms, like they had done many times before. They rolled apart, being careful to stay under the silk covers.

He took a moment, breathing deeply, staring up at the bedposts above him. The mattress shifted as Alex turned away, also breathing heavily.

"Alex?" He started to ask, but was interrupted.

"I need you to stay. Please." Alex's lips hardly moved at all.

"You need to tell me what's going on."

"I can't."

"Alex-"

"I _can't."_

* * *

/Alex/

He looked up at the canopy above them, it rustled slightly in the air conditioning's artificial breeze. He had retrieved his clothes, but still felt goosebumps rise on his skin from the chill.

Yassen lay next to him, also looking up, clearly taking Alex's lead. Alex kept a firm hand on Yassen's arm, fingers clenched tight - as if he could really stop Yassen if he decided to leave. He hoped his persistence would be enough to persuade him to stay.

It was half an hour later, half an hour of lying still on his back, when his phone went off. It was MI6: Agent Cross.

 _Mission Complete. Report for debriefing within 24 hours._

Alex let out a sigh of relief. The charade could end, then. He looked over at Yassen to see that the assassin was already on his side, eyes locked in the screen of his phone.

"What mission?" He asked under his breath - probably still unsure if they could speak freely.

Alex answered simply, "You."

* * *

/ _Flashback_ /

 _When Cross first messaged him, Alex ignored it. Cross was a dick, and not someone Alex wanted to associate with at the best of times. Then, the man had sent him a link. Long and encrypted._

 _Curiousity moved Alex to click on it, wondering where the hell this was going. Turns out, north east Spain. The link was to a security camera - too clear and well placed to belong to anyone other than an intelligence agency. In the center of the frame, Yassen Gregorovich sat at a cafe table. His hair was dyed a natural red colour, or maybe strawberry blond, and his skin was as fair as Alex had ever seen it. The camera was zoomed in enough that Alex could make out a few freckles painted on his cheeks with expertly applied make up. His eyes were green._

 _I know. Cross had sent. A shiver had gone down his spine._

 _Translation being that he and Yassen had committed the cardinal sin of developing a routine. Of getting comfortable. They had stopped looking over their shoulders. They would paying for that, it would seem. Someone had caught on._

 _He went to the Royal and General Bank immediately._

* * *

/Yassen/

"Me," he confirmed, feeling like he was missing something.

Alex nodded. "You and the people you were supposed to meet today."

That brought a frown to his face - he hadn't mentioned the meeting to Alex. Hadn't, in fact, even been invited until last week. He had pulled a lot of strings to make sure he was here for it, and now looking at the time on Alex's phone, he realized he had missed it.

"How much do you know?" He questioned Alex.

The boy smirked. "More than you. More than I can say." Right. Someone was listening. MI6, it would seem. That's unfortunate, as far as Yassen knew, MI6 had remained thus far unaware of his and Alex's relationship. Obviously not anymore.

When he looked back at Alex, the young spy was swinging out of bed, letting the blankets fall away from him. Yassen didn't try to stop him as he collected his shoes and made to leave. As Alex walked out, he paused next to the metal surveillance bug, it still glinted in the dim light. He snapped it off the wall.

"I'll see you soon."

* * *

/ _Alex_ /

 _Cross had been sitting at his desk located on the floor below Mrs. Jones (also the floor below Alex's office, not that he used it often.) Alex had never been to his office before, had never had the need. Now, there was a very big need._

" _Agent Rider, good of you to join me." A similar greeting to what Blunt had sometimes said (as if he'd had a choice, as if he was here by his own free will), but Cross was no Blunt. The agent in front of him had more life in his little finger than Alan Blunt did in his entire body. He had an energy about him that was almost manic. A glint in his eye that reminded Alex of the unhinged villains he had tangled with. It unnerved Alex more than he would care to admit._

" _What do you want?" Alex asked, sitting across from the agent without being invited. He leaned back, trying to look unconcerned. (He wasn't sure how well he pulled it off.)_

" _The real question is, I think, what do_ you _want?" Cross had retorted, equally relaxed. "And the answer is, Yassen Gregorovich's life."_

" _So in that case," Alex's patience was already wearing thin, he pursed his lips for a moment, "what do you want in return?"_

* * *

/Yassen/

It was late at night, the time when even the night owls were tucked up in bed. There was a light knock on the door, then it inched open. Alex came in, rainwater dripping off his jacket. His blond hair was plastered to his forehead. He looked tired - grey like the storm clouds that had rolled in.

"Are you ready to tell me," Yassen started with a hint of annoyance in his voice, "what the hell is going on?"

Alex nodded and crossed the room to sit on the other end of the couch. He shook his hair out. Water stained the throw pillows.

"MI6 knows," Alex started, then bit his lip like he didn't know how to continue. "Not all of them, not all the way to the top… Mrs. Jones doesn't know."

"Why not?" Why would an agent find out something like this and not report it? It didn't make sense.

"Agent Cross found out, I don't know how, I think he was just trying to find some dirt on me and somehow stumbled on this. He's high up, but not quite top tier. Instead of passing it on, he decided he could use it to his advantage. He doesn't agree with the recent reforms in MI6, all the changes since Blunt left, so he decided to make a power move. Cross has been secretly rallying support in the top level agents for a coop, but obviously he know's that I would never support him over Jones."

Yassen nodded. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Alex was one of the highest ranking agents in MI6, despite his age. He had, after all, been in the business for years now. Alex was a key player, and someone Cross would need on his side if he had any hope of taking over.

"Agent Cross… Agent Brian Cross?" He recognized the name.

"Yes," Alex didn't seem surprised that Yassen had heard of Cross.

"He was one of the double agents that set up the meeting."

"I know," Alex said, "it was a set up. You got a message, right? From Zeljan Kurst and Brendan Chase?"

Old Scorpia board members from before Alex had crippled the organization. "They were captured after you mission in Cairo, they recently escaped."

"Cross set them free on purpose," Alex told him.

"Why would he do that?" Yassen asked. He understood now that Cross wasn't really a double agent, not for his side. So then, why set known terrorists free? How would that possibly help in a takeover? He couldn't see the connection between him, Scorpia, Alex, Cross and Jones.

"Because Kurst and Chase escaping would bring Mrs. Jones' abilities into question. Plus if he was the one to bring them back in, as well as other wanted assassin's and terrorist's, it would put him in a position to take over. You were a main target, Dr. Three as well. Mikato also got away, and a bunch of high level assassins. Oliver D'Arc, the Gentleman, Amanda Walker, Graff. So he figured if he let some of the board members go, they would reach out to the rest of you. Most of the remaining board would want to get Scorpia back up and running, he figured. Most wouldn't have the money or influence anymore to stay hidden forever. Power in numbers, I suppose."

Yassen nodded. That is exactly what they had done. Most of the boards money would have been tied up with Scorpia, so upon escaping incarceration, they would hasten to find allies and resources to stay hidden. They had been imprisoned for years now, they wouldn't have enough money in the bank without Scorpia. Without help. Yassen himself knew that he had lost a great deal of money and connections when Scorpia fell. Being an assassin, he didn't fall on too hard of times. His retirement was delayed, but overall his reputation had made it easy enough to find work elsewhere.

Board members didn't have that kind of security. Not to mention they were high profile targets. They would have high prices on their heads.

Others who had had Scorpia as their sole source of missions were less lucky than Yassen as well. They would certainly be overjoyed at the prospect of getting Scorpia back up and running.

* * *

/ _Alex_ /

" _I want to bring Scorpia down." Cross folded his hands on the desk between them, eyes hooded and serious._

 _Alex snorted. "Well that's bloody easy enough. I've already done it."_

 _Cross nodded - in the way a teacher might when a students answer isn't necessarily wrong, but isn't the answer they were looking for. "The organization, yes. You did a phenomenal job tearing that apart. The people however… well, Yassen Gregorovich is just one example of someone that managed to escape judgement."_

* * *

/Yassen/

"So Cross wanted the opportunity to take down as many Scorpia members as possible… while also creating an opening for himself to take over."

"Yes."

"And I'm guessing," Yassen continued, "That he offered to keep me out of it so long as he had your support when he made his move."

Alex said nothing, but Yassen knew he was right. It was a smart move, if a bit overkill. The escape of Kurst and Chase would reflect poorly on Director Jones, and their recapture would put Cross in a good light. Then with Alex and the other high ranking agents in his debt, he could easily petition to have Jones removed for incompetence.

Yassen didn't like the idea of Alex being blackmailed (again.)

"Well," Yassen said, reaching a hand out to tilt up Alex's chin, "That simply will not do."

Alex frowned. "What do you mean?"

* * *

In the end, it was Yassen that set it up. Alex wasn't sure why, it's not like Mrs. Jones had ever done anything for him, after all. It also wasn't as if the inner workings of MI6 affected him in any way. He thought, Yassen must be doing this for _him_. Trying to save him the guilt and the heartbreak that would come in betraying one of his oldest allies. He would have done it, betrayed Jones to keep Yassen safe. But it was a relief not to have to.

He didn't have a lot of love for Mrs. Jones, but he had some. Enough that he didn't want to see anyone else as director of MI6. Yassen knew this. And the assassin was always a master at planning other people's downfall.

Now it was Cross's turn. Yassen had expertly backed the agent (ex-agent now) into a corner. Had flipped every crazy move Cross had made and turned it into an advantage for them; had managed to dig up plenty of evidence (some of it false, some real.) It was a brilliant sight to see.

Alex stood in a room that he thought was supposed to resemble a court. He was standing on a podium, looking out at where the jury would reside. There was no jury, just a few dozen agents and generals and high up politicians. There was no judge, just Mrs. Jones sitting off to his right.

She was smiling, as if Alex hadn't been moments away from stabbing her in the back. He guessed if she could forgive Alex for holding her at gunpoint in her own apartment, a little bit of treason wouldn't phase her.

Yassen was here as well, which put Alex more than a little on edge. A world renowned assassin in a room with some of the most powerful people in Great Britain. Alex couldn't help wondering who would strike first.

But no, no one was striking. In fact, Mrs. Jones was in the midst of granting Yassen a pardon. Unofficial, and of course he wouldn't be allowed back into the country (not that that was likely to stop him.) She thanked him for his service, in catching such a prominent double agent. Cross would be dealt with severely. After all, jailbreaking terrorists was a serious offence.

Alex stepped down from the podium, having said his piece. Cross was glaring at him from where he was shackled on the other side of the room. Alex smiled at him pleasantly, finding a spot to sit next to Yassen. The assassin wound an arm over his shoulders - they got a few pointed looks, but Alex couldn't care less.

* * *

 **AN:**

Thanks for reading! Please review! :D


	17. Hush

**Warnings:** Slash, age gap, sex, rape.

 **Rated:** M

* * *

Alex shivered from the cold, muscles spasming, entire body shaking. He heard a low laugh from above him in response and tried to hold still. Maybe if he was still enough, they would forget he was here. He could fade into the background - become like a statue or a window. A part of the decoration, or transparent.

He flinched as another bolt of pain shot through him. Grimacing, he dragged his nails across the concrete floor. A scratching sound resonated - like nails on a chalkboard. It was an irritating noise, and wasn't met with appreciate by the man above him. Alex's hair was grabbed, nearly yanked out, and his forehead was slammed into the rock floor beneath him. He whimpered in pain.

"Shut _up_. _Shut the fuck up_ ," the angry growl was low enough not to echo around the small cellar. The order was accompanied by another wave of assault.

Alex bit his lip, trying to stifle the noises that wanted to escape. Blood dripped down his chin, pooled in his mouth. It felt like he was drowning.

He spat, and was met with another order to _be quiet_. Nails dug into his back, his sides. The pressure from behind him felt near to breaking his spine.

 _Shut up_ , he told himself, _just be quiet._ _Just take it a little while longer_.

That's what he told himself. Just a little longer. He'd been saying that quite a long time.

 _Shut up shut up shut up._

* * *

/Yassen/

When normal people receive a phone call from a number they don't recognize, they let it ring out. Yassen, however, was used to a certain level of unknown callers. Clients, usually. Occasionally Alex would change his number without telling him.

The latter is what he was hoping for. Alex was on a mission, and was more than a little late. Yassen was beginning to get worried. Not that Alex would appreciate it.

"Hello?" He answered, purposely not giving his name.

"Mr. Gregorovich," a female voice spoke down the line, "This is the Royal and General Bank. There seems to be a problem with your account. If convenient, we would appreciate if you came by immediately."

Then the phone dialed out, a prolonged tone playing in Yassens ear. Of course, he recognized the summons. MI6 used it often enough to call Alex in - but him? Even after MI6 became aware of his and Alex's relationship, even after Director Jones gave him an unofficial pardon, they had never asked him to come in. Never asked him to get involved. Officially, he wasn't even supposed to be allowed into the country (though Mrs. Jones isn't naive enough to think they could stop him.)

Maybe they hoped Alex would be a good influence on him. That if they kept him uninvolved, he would eventually move into a kind of retirement.

It worked, somewhat, if that was the goal. Since he and Alex had been together, he had steadily decreased the amount of missions he went on. He preferred staying close to England, trying to match his schedule with Alex's. He was enjoying a semi-retirement. Enjoying the peace.

Peace is over, it would seem.

* * *

It was odd, walking into a top secret military intelligence base. On _invitation_ , nonetheless.

He walked right past reception - past the agents in disguise; past the legitimate, bored bankers; past the real, annoyed customers.

He spotted an agent near the elevator, someone he recognized; from a file? A mission? From Alex, maybe?

"Crawley," the man introduced himself. He didn't call himself _agent_ or _mister_ or anything of the sort. He didn't offer a hand to be shaken.

The elevator dinged and Yassen was led upstairs. He remembered Alex telling him about the scanners and cameras hidden in the walls, and he suddenly felt self conscious. He did have a handgun hidden in his belt and a knife strapped to his calf, after all.

"Here," Crawley gestured once they were standing outside of a door. Then the agent disappeared, leaving the hallway deserted.

That's a lot of trust to place in an international assassin - leaving him unattended in the middle of an MI6 stronghold, though he was sure he was under the utmost surveillance. He opened the door.

"Mr. Gregorovich," the director of MI6 sat behind her desk, "take this." A card was held out to him.

Taking it, he saw it was an access card. Like a hotel key card, with a black bar running up the side.

"You'll find Agent Rider downstairs, the elevator will take you to the correct floor."

Yassen turned to leave, a little bewildered by this turn of events. He had never been asked to come and collect Alex before, was he hurt?

"And I would consider it a personal favour," Mrs. Jones added, "if you kept us updated on his condition."

That didn't make Yassen feel better.

* * *

/Alex/

He swallowed a yelp. He had nothing to bite down upon except his own lip, which he had already gnawed to shreds.

 _Just be quiet_ , he thought sternly. _Not long now, he couldn't last forever, surely?_

But then, he'd have to deal with his friend. The other man, stood to the side, getting off on watching. Silently egging him on; thinking, probably, about how he wanted to do it. Alex didn't think he could do this again. It wasn't in his nature - to lie still and take it.

He would have to figure something else out.

* * *

/Yassen/

Alex looked deep in thought - lost in it, would be an appropriate description. He looked a million miles away.

Stepping into the room, he had expected Alex to be horribly injured. Lying in a hospital bed, tubes and wires obscuring him. Essentially, though, Alex didn't look much worse for ware. No worse than any other mission, at least.

Alex was sitting on a cot that was bolted securely to the floor, curled in the corner against a wall. The wall was made of pristine white tiles that blended into the floor seamlessly. He assumed that this was a holding cell, of some kind. Maybe a temporary residence for agents, but the hostile feel of the room made him doubt that.

There was visible stitching on Alex's forehead, as well as a deep cut sewn up on his lip. Bandages were wrapped around his wrists. The side of Alex's face had a healing bruise (that looked like the backside of a hand, much to Yassen's anger). And Alex was holding his sides, like it pained him to breath.

Overall, though, Alex had come out worse in the past.

"Alexander," he spoke softly, just enough volume to attract the young spy's attention.

* * *

/Alex/

 _Be quiet_ , they said to him, in hushed tones that barely carried. _Can't let them know we're here, can we?_

Alex nodded, face pressed to the ground. The worst part was, Alex _did_ need to be quiet. It was essential. There were people upstairs, people that simply _could not_ know he was here. If they did, he was dead.

These people, these two men, had offered to keep his secret. For a price.

He needed to stay silent.

Of course, he didn't believe that they were telling the truth. He was sure that once they'd had their way, they would sell him out then sleep like a couple of newborn's. The best he could do was distract them for now. He got the feeling these men weren't into sharing, so as long as he cooperated, they wouldn't call to their friends upstairs.

That gave him time, at least. That was worth something. Time is a kind of currency, isn't it?

* * *

/Yassen/

He didn't speak, didn't even acknowledge that he had heard what Yassen said. Just stared blankly at the wall, jaw clenched so tightly he might break a tooth.

Yassen approached carefully, as he would a wounded deer or a feral cat. Alex was neither of these, yet just as unpredictable, just as potentially dangerous. Not someone who should be startled.

He placed a hand on the sheets of the bed. They were rough, more like sandpaper than bedding, which further cemented the idea that this room was for prisoners.

"Alex," his voice sounded obnoxiously loud in the room, though he was speaking in little more than a whisper. "Are you alright?"

Still, Alex stayed perfectly stationary. Yassen could see, though, that he wasn't oblivious. Alex wasn't simply staring off into space; he was aware of Yassen's presence, and was making a conscious effort not to move. Like a convict under threat of a gun.

 _Freeze_.

* * *

/Alex/

His shivering got worse. The cellar he was in was cold and damp and dark. The only heat available to him was the man towering over him, and it made him sick to think of that. His stomach rolled.

As his shaking got more violent, the men's laughter grew as well. Alex clenched his jaw and wished they would be more quiet. _Shut up_ , they had told him. But that was when they were sober.

The cellar they were in, naturally, was a wine cellar. Just his luck. He wasn't sure when they had broken out the booze, but they were a few bottles in with no sign of stopping.

As the drink took hold they got rougher, louder. Hands bruised Alex's wrists, which were held tight above his head.

 _Shut up, please._

* * *

/Yassen/

He was worried that touching Alex would bring forth an adverse reaction. Another part of him hoped it would shake Alex from his stupor. Neither of these things happened - his touch did nothing, not in favour nor against. Alex stayed exactly the same. Still as a statue. Practically petrified.

He wrapped his arms around him, threading them under Alex's legs and behind his back. He pulled the boy close, so his head rested against Yassens heart. This is where Alex likes to lay, when they were in bed. At night, Alex took comfort from the steady pace of his heartbeat - just a small reminder that this, that they, were real. Alive and well and next to each other. Alex, when he was sleepy and partaking in pillow talk, said he liked the feel of his rising and falling chest.

Yassen admitted that he felt the same desire to be reassured of Alex's well being. Feeling Alex's breath on his chest. When they intertwined their hands, Yassen would sometimes focus on the point where Alex's wrist touched him. If he focused hard enough, he could feel the evidence of Alex's beating heart.

Alex turned his head slightly, into Yassens chest, borrowing against him like a kitten. Settling. It was the first reaction he had managed to get.

"You're going to be okay," Yassen kissed Alex's forehead. Lips brushing golden locks.

* * *

/Alex/

"Shut him up!" The snarl came from across the room, getting closer. "We don't want the commander hearing."

A hand detached itself from around Alex's wrist, clamping instead over his mouth.

Alex was crying. He had tried so hard not to, but as the other man finished behind him, he couldn't help the sobs from escaping. Sob's of relief, that it was over. Sob's of pain, that he had been holding back. Sob's of something like despair, knowing that, if he didn't think fast, he would need to do it again.

The man didn't move for a moment. He waited for his friend to make it to his side. The man that had stood against the racks of wine knelt to the cold, concrete floor. The gun he had held was tucked into the back of his trousers.

The man above him shifted, pulling away from him. Alex shuddered at the feeling. Warmth left him as his assailant moved away - Alex berated his mind for automatically missing it, the heat source. He was freezing.

The man above him stumbled away, leaving him to the mercies of his friend. Drunk off his arse, the first man fell against the cellar wall with a dull thud. He didn't have a gun, Alex realized. He hadn't been sure, facing away from him, if he'd had a weapon within reach. Now he could see he didn't. That certainly made things easier.

The other man had the gun, the one that was wrapping his hands around Alex's forearms. Just one gun, tucked into his waistband. With both the men thoroughly wasted, the gun was the only real threat in the room.

* * *

/Yassen/

Alex hadn't spoken a word all the way home. He had, however, refused to let go of Yassen, which he thought was a good sign. A sign of cognizance. He had held Alex close in the back of the MI6 issued car. He was thankful for the tinted windows.

He carded his hand through Alex's hair. It was soft, a little too long now. Alex had been meaning to get it cut, before he left on the mission. It wasn't tangled though, it hung straight. He wondered if Alex had managed to brush it himself. Doubtful; Alex hardly brushed his hair on good days.

He laid down with Alex in the loft. Surrounded by pillows, soft lighting and plush blankets. A stuffed animal that Alex had won at a fair in Brisbane. It had been hot, Alex had been blending in with the local teens. Yassen had been in the area.

They had met up, at great risk to themselves, at the fair. Had won a handful of cheap stuffed animals apiece, both of them outrageously good at the carnival games. Water guns and darts and ring tosses weren't much of a challenge. They both had excellent aim.

"I love you, Alex." He pulled Alex to his chest again. The boy curled up in his customary spot, head against heart.

* * *

/Alex/

"You're gonna love this," the man whispered in his ear, positioning himself behind Alex.

For a moment, nothing held him down as the man undid his belt. Alex would have made a move, if he wasn't so aware of the gun in the man's possession.

That's what he said, anyway, but that is a reconstruction. He hadn't moved because he had been told not to. _Shut up. Don't move. Be quiet._ He obeyed.

There was a clatter, it startled Alex out of his frozen state.

 _The gun_.

Tucked into the man's trousers, had fallen out as he did away with the belt. Alex tilted his head, cheek against the floor, and saw the handle of the gun. The man above him was oblivious to the mistake he made. He was completely intoxicated.

Idiot.

* * *

/Yassen/

He was nursing a small shot of vodka, reading a paperback in Korean. A drink he would normally down in one go was taking him over an hour to finish. Alex lay next to him, curled up against the pillows. Unmoving. Silent. Like a victim of Medusa, an unnatural stillness.

It was discomforting, to say the least. Of all the things Alex was capable of, staying still was never top of the list. Yassen was always the still one - could stay unmoving for hours, eye against the scope of a rifle. It served him well.

Alex was the opposite. Act fast, act now - that's what got him through his missions. No waiting. Just action. Constant movement and no real need for patience. It had served him well.

Now the roles were reversed. Alex in a near petrified state, Yassen feeling jittery and unsure. He felt on edge - he wanted to pace. Instead, he placed his drink and his book to the side. Neither was calming his nerves.

He reached into his bedside drawer and withdrew a gun. Small, Russian made and reliable. Something he had used a thousand times, enough to know the gun inside and out. It was a better distraction than a book. It gave him something to do with his hands.

His mind drifted, thinking about the future. It wasn't something he or Alex ever really discussed - Alex liked to roll with the punches, planning wasn't his forte - but Yassen had been thinking for a while that it might be time to make a change.

He had been slowly withdrawing from the world of organized crime, preferring to spend downtime with Alex as often as possible. He had saved up enough money (blood money) to live out a peaceful retirement. With Alex, if it came to that.

He wondered what Alex would think - at the moment it didn't look like the spy was thinking much of anything. He was still so young, would the idea of retirement appeal to him? Yassen couldn't see why Alex would prefer missions that put him in states like this…

He'd have to ask Alex, when he snapped out of it.

He disassembled the gun, at half speed. Taking it apart piece by piece. Then he put it back together, faster this time. He loaded it, cocked it.

* * *

/Alex/

He was terrified. Alex was man enough to admit it.

From what he could see, the gun had a silencer screwed on - but even with it, the people upstairs might hear. They were on high alert, looking for him. Searching everywhere in the neighbourhood, and here he was a floor below.

He would have to move quickly. Even if the gun wasn't loud enough to alert them, Alex had two men to silence. He couldn't afford to let them yell. They were drunk, though, which would play in his favour.

The man was moving behind him, lining up, completely occupied by the task at hand - the other man was leaning against the stone wall, watching with keen eyes, only slightly glazed by the drink.

He took a breath, readying himself. He had held so still, up until this moment, that he almost didn't remember how to move at all. Alex ran through the motions in his head once again. Gun, turn, fire. Turn, fire again. He was sure there were at least two bullets in the gun. Hopefully.

"You ready?" The voice in his ear, different from the first man. More gruff.

Yeah, Alex thought, bracing himself, I'm ready.

"One…"

Two.

 _Three._

* * *

/Yassen/

The safety of the gun was flicked into place. Alex propped himself up on an elbow, looking at Yassen with those big, brown eyes of his.

Fingers curled around the muzzle of his gun. Yassen let it be pulled away, falling through his fingers. Alex's eyes flickered over it - checking the clip and the safety again.

"You shouldn't play with such things, you know," Alex said in a cracked voice, hoarse from disuse. "Could hurt somebody."

Yassen leaned forward, brushing his hand over Alex's cheek.

"I love you, too," Alex said.

* * *

 **AN:**

Thanks to everyone who has read, followed, favourited and reviewed. I really appreciate all the support! Please leave your thoughts in the reviews.


	18. All's Fair

**Warnings:** N/A

 **Rated:** T

 _He laid down with Alex in the loft. Surrounded by pillows, soft lighting and plush blankets. A stuffed animal that Alex had won at a fair in Brisbane. It had been hot, Alex had been blending in with the local teens. Yassen had been in the area._

 _They had met up, at great risk to themselves, at the fair. Had won a handful of cheap stuffed animals apiece, both of them outrageously good at the carnival games. Water guns and darts and ring tosses weren't much of a challenge. They both had excellent aim._

* * *

Brisbane, Queensland, Australia.

A place as beautiful as it was hot, and Alex wasn't sure which won out.

He was strolling up a main street lined with vendors, concrete ground so hot he could feel it through the soles of his shoes. He was here, in Australia, as part of a simple mission. (Really simple this time, not MI6's version of 'simple'.) At the moment, he was just blending in with the crowd.

Enjoying himself for once. A tourist. One unremarkable teen out of hundreds.

It was as he meandered past a booth of brightly coloured trinkets and flowing fabrics that he recognized the feeling of pursuit. The slight raising of hairs on the back of his neck; the cold feeling settling in his bones, in the pit of his stomach.

Feigning ignorance, Alex took a false interest in the next booth over. Intricate, hand made jewelry pieces, and more importantly, a mirror. A little dusty, but sufficient for his needs.

And there - framed perfectly in the circular mirror - familiar blue eyes and fair hair. Alex smiled, taking in the view hungrily. A white v-neck, sunglasses hooked into it. Blue shorts that accented smouldering eyes. Skin that was usually fair turning a pale gold, not yet threatening to burn under the harsh sun.

Then the vendor started showing off a collection of cheap wedding rings, and Alex decided to take his leave.

He kept walking, slower now to allow his tail to keep up in the thick crowd of oblivious tourists and obnoxious locals. He cast his eyes around, keeping up the appearance of sightseeing. Moseying past a tall bulletin board, he examined the notices pinned there. Ripped and faded, few of them appealed to the eye. Except…

Alex stepped forward, running crinkling paper between his thumb and forefinger. Bright words and fireworks. A lit up ferris wheel in the background, a carousel in the foreground. The promise of popcorn and cotton candy. He deliberately ran his hand over it. Examined it a second longer until he was certain his pursuer had gotten the message, then he continued on his way.

At the end of the wide street, he paused. Turning about, he peered back the way he had come, analyzing the board again. The flyer that had been pinned there not a moment ago was missing - a ripped piece of the corner still stuck in with a tac, fluttering in the hot breeze, the only proof it had existed at all.

Yassen Gregorovich was nowhere in sight.

* * *

The evening was clear, sea breeze still blowing, making everything smell of salt. Also attributing to the salty smell was the bag of popcorn in Alex's hand. He ate handful after handful, feeling guilty about the greasy carnival food, but unable to stop.

He was wandering past a curtain covered box when a strong grip appeared on his arm. A sharp yank unbalanced him and his popcorn went flying. He was tugged sideways, disappearing through the bright red drape - Alex could have sworn the sign outside said 'photo booth' not 'kissing booth', yet lips were planted firmly on his own.

"I've missed you…"

Alex hummed in appreciation and deepened the kiss, aware that their picture was being taken, but not particularly caring. Lights flashed. Alex ran a hand through soft hair - shorter than he remembered.

Yassen caught his other hand, breaking their kiss to taste his buttery fingers. Alex laughed and quickly pulled away. Gave Yassen a kiss on the cheek and poked his head past the curtain.

He led Yassen out after him, starting down the narrow strip between rides and games and booths. Wiping a cursory hand on his jeans, he then slipped his fingers between Yassens, squeezing tightly. They didn't speak, preferring to walk in relative silence.

The fairground bustled around them, laughter and screams mixed seamlessly into the loud chatter. Yassen moved his hand from clasping Alex's own to wrapping around his shoulders. His hair was pressed down as Yassen kissed the top of his head.

They intermingled with the crowd, pressed tight together. They were bumped and jostled, but neither really minded. They were too wrapped up with each other.

"Want to go on a ride?" Alex asked after they had been wandering for near an hour.

Yassen smiled down at him, Alex felt a rumble of laughter emit from his chest. "What, the tilt-a-whirl?"

"Not really your scene?" Alex smiled back at him.

Yassen hummed noncommittally, glancing around at the rides filled with shrieking teens. He snorted at the mental image of Yassen among them - he had never seen Yassen shriek. He couldn't even imagine it.

"Okay…" Alex continued. "How about… that."

"That?" Yassen asked, following his gaze.

"Yeah," Alex answered, "that."

He pulled Yassen tighter and steered them towards the booth. He pulled a couple bills from his pockets, smacking it down and sliding onto a stool. Yassen sat next to him, feigning reluctance.

In front of them, mounted to the booth counter, were water guns. Targets were set up past that, several all in a row. Other people were queuing up as well, sitting in the other available stools.

"On your marks," the vendor shouted. Alex gripped the gun, finger light on the trigger. "Get set… go!"

Alex and Yassen presses down at the same moment, stream of water shooting off in a perfect arc. They both hit the bullseye, keeping steady as their score climbed higher.

Two bells rung out in unison. Alex laughed at the eruption of lights in his station, a similar view at Yassen's.

"Perfect score, amazing!" The vendor spread his arms wide. "Pick a prize, my friends."

Yassen shook his head, passing. Alex nudged him, calling him a party-pooper under his breath before pointing out his desired prize. The vendor handed him a small stuffed animal. A bear.

The eyes were a little lopsided, and the seams looked a second away from bursting. The fabric was rough, fluff coming off on Alex's fingers. Blue fluff - an obnoxious raspberry blue colour like an artificial drink.

Alex smiled and clutched the toy to his chest, peeking at Yassen over the teddy's head. The assassin rolled his eyes, but Alex could see the smile he was hiding.

They moved out of the way as the next wave of customers surged forwards. Alex leaned up, placing his lips a hair's breadth from Yassen's ears.

"I think I'm going to name it Yassen," he joked, nudging the man with his shoulder.

Yassen laughed, pulling him into a rough side hug. "Oh God no."

Alex smiled. "You know what I named my first teddy bear?"

"What?" Yassen inquired.

"Bear."

"Very creative, you must have been a prodigy."

"Oi! Shut up! I was like, three years old," Alex protested. "What was your first bears name, huh?"

Yassen bit his lip, glancing at Alex out of the corner of his eye.

"Bear… but in Russian."

Alex laughed in surprise, taking Yassen's hand. Fingers intertwined, they weaved through the crowd. Alex checked his wallet, pleased to find a thick stack of small bills.

He dragged Yassen from booth to booth for the better part of an hour. Ring toss, hammer test, darts, spin the wheel, skee ball. All the classics. By the time night had taken hold, they were struggling to carry armfuls of prizes.

They were back where they started. Yassen had just offered his hotel room as their next stop when Alex felt a tug on his wrist. He looked down.

"Hi!" A young boy with reddish brown hair was smiling up at him. "Is this you?" He asked, proffering a strip of paper. "I found it in the photo booth."

Alex looked at the line of four pictures. First of Yassen, smiling with an outstretched hand. A blur of red as Alex was pulled into the booth. The next captured Alex's shocked face, his and Yassen's lips a millimeter apart. Then a proper picture, the two of them with arms wrapped around each other, melting together. The last one of them pulling apart, laughing, Alex pressing a kiss to Yassen's cheek.

Alex blushed. "Yes, that's ours," the boy passed him the pictures, "thank you."

"You're welcome!" The boy smiled and went to walk away.

"Hey," Yassen called from next to him, the boy turned back. "You wouldn't happen to want a stuffed animal or two, would you?" He displayed his array of prizes.

The kid smiled and took one with a word of thanks. Pretty soon Yassen had passed out the majority of their many prizes to other passing kids, until all that was left was a little blue bear.

By the time their bounty had been unloaded, it was getting late. Alex still had a cover to keep, and should probably be leaving soon. But… every time he looked over at Yassen, he just couldn't bring himself to leave.

"What is it?" Yassen asked. "You're staring."

Alex bit his lip, blushing. "I should get going…" Yassen frowned, and Alex just couldn't do it. "... soon."

"Soon?"

He nodded. "You owe me a ride first."

Yassen shook his head, half laughing. Alex nudged him and put on his most persuasive face.

"Come on, just one? Please? For me?" He widened his eyes, pleading.

Yassen tried to keep a straight face, but cracked, smiling down at him. "Fine. Just one. Nothing that spins."

Alex cheered, grabbing Yassen's hand and taking off at double speed.

* * *

"You know, I said no spinning."

"This does _not_ count," Alex exclaimed, shoving Yassen's shoulder.

"Hey hey hey!" Yassen held his hands up in surrender. "Be careful! It says not to rock the seats!"

"Oh yeah?" Alex cocked his head to the side, mischievously leaning forward.

The bar securing them in pressed against his stomach. The bench tilted, teetered. Alex quickly rocked back, the joints of the contraption creaking. Yassen lashed out and grabbed the handle of the bench on reflex. He glared at Alex playfully.

"You're playing a dangerous game…"

"Yeah?" Alex said. "What else is knew?" He leaned forwards again, intent now on his game.

Yassen rolled his eyes and reached out to grab Alex's chin. He quickly distracted the young spy from his rocking with a long, drawn out kiss. When they surfaced, Alex could barely breathe, let alone summon the coordination to rock the seat. Probably, that was Yassen's intention.

By now they were reaching the top of their rotational peak. The ferris wheel gave them an uninhibited view of the horizon. The distant ocean and everything between.

Alex leaned into Yassen's warm arms. It was beautiful.

"So this mission…" Yassen said, "how important is it for you to get back?"

Alex snuggled closer. It was pretty important, but right now, Alex felt like nothing could compete with his desire to stay with Yassen.

"I think… one night out won't sink us."

He wasn't looking at Yassen, but could feel the smile on his face. "I promise to get you back soon."

"Not too soon."

* * *

Alex collapsed back against the white sheets, illuminated by the full moon outside. The curtains were open, the view outside as spectacular as the one from the top of the ferris wheel.

Alex had decided. Brisbane was _beautiful._

Yassen crawled up after him, pulling his shirt free. Hands were caressing Alex's stomach, and Yassen was pulling upwards. Alex raised his arms and opened his hands. The shirt fell next to them, landing beside a bright blue teddy bear.

* * *

 **AN:**

Please leave your thoughts in the reviews!


	19. Rest in Peace

Alex sat reclined in a beach chair, thick novel in hand. The sun was high and his shades rested low on his nose, slightly too big for his face. Probably because they weren't really _his_ glasses.

Alex hadn't thought retirement would agree with him; he had thought it would be tremendously boring and that he would miss life in the fast lane. But so far, he had been rather pleased with his experience in 'relaxing'. He had Yassen, who provided more than enough excitement. He had the sun and beach and everything that came with it. He had the chance to catch up on all the things he had missed.

Education, sports, _fun_.

Anyway, it wasn't as if he was really out of the game, not entirely. Nor was Yassen. They had just taken up a more… background role. It was nice being the game master for a change, like playing chess rather than being a pawn. Alex had never liked being pushed blindly around the checkered board.

They consulted with MI6 and other intelligence agencies. They relayed information. They even consulted with criminal organizations - though Alex stayed out of the more gruesome side of things. Sometimes, they even took up low level jobs, if they were in the area. Working _with_ Yassen was a novel experience.

Speak of the devil…

"Morning sunshine," Yassen leaned over the back of his chair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Gentle hands pulled the sunglasses of his face. Alex blinked at the sudden assault of glaring sunlight. Yassen pushed them up the bridge of his own nose - a much better fit.

"Afternoon, actually," Alex ran his sun warmed hands up Yassen's arm. "Retirement is turning you lazy."

"Is it now?" Yassen asked lowly.

Alex hummed. "Or perhaps that's the old age…"

Before he could even finish the sentence, a strong arm was tightening around his waist. Alex found himself hanging upside down, looking at the fine sand a few feet from his face. Alex laughed, feeling all the blood and adrenaline shoot to his brain.

Yassen spun around with Alex slung over his shoulder. Sand flew as the man carrying him jogged down to the water's edge. Alex just barely had time to utter a word of protest before water was encasing him like a tomb.

Bubbles drifted upwards and Alex followed them to the surface. Gasping and spluttering, he sent a handful of salty spray at Yassen, who stood safely with his feet in the tide. The look on the assassins face said: _what were you saying about old age?_

"Jerk," he called out with a smile.

He slowly found his footing in the crashing waves, walking out of the surf. He pulled Yassen into a tight hug - the man gasped a little as the sea water soaked him.

He leaned up to kiss him and Yassen leaned down. Yassen's sunglasses slid down his nose, bumping against Alex's. Alex's lips were cool and salty from his dive, whereas Yassen's were soft and sun warmed. Lips parted under gentle pressure. Tongues met, gently exchanging the taste of sunbeams and ocean.

Yassen's hands were on Alex's chest, tugging at his shirt, the wet fabric clinging. Sure hands pulled at the hem; Alex raised his arms to let his shirt fly over his head. The article was discarded in the sand of the otherwise empty beach.

Alex ran his hands up Yassen's shirt, palms smoothing over a well muscled chest. Yassen was just dipping fingers into his shorts when Alex parted, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. Yassen quirked an eyebrow over the rim of his sunglasses in question - already breathing hard despite the fact that Alex had been the one tossed underwater.

"We aren't doing it here," Alex stated, lightly pushing Yassen a step towards the house.

Yassen tilted his head, sunglasses falling even more askew.

"No sex on the beach? Isn't that everyone's fantasy?"

Alex pressed forwards, forcing Yassen back. "Sand will get _everywhere_."

Yassen laughed and allowed Alex to tug him back towards the house. Up the wooden front steps, under the shade of the porch. Through the front door and into what they were currently calling home; the most permanent home Alex had had since Chelsea, and the only permanent home Yassen could remember having in ages.

It wasn't much - a wooden hut by the seaside. A bungalow with little more than the necessities. A living room, kitchen, study - enough room for the few possessions Alex and Yassen had grown fond of.

Most importantly, a bedroom. A huge four poster bed was centred against the far wall, a window on either side proudly framed the ocean. Like two paintings of perfect days that had spontaneously taken up life.

There were two bedside tables, both concealing a handgun in the top drawer; but the longer those weapons went unused, the more Alex smiled.

Yassen had his hands down Alex's shorts again - practiced hands devesting him of the clothing within seconds. Alex was swiftly stripped, then pushed back flat on the bed. He crawled up against the headboard, curling his fingers into the duvet that he was steadily soaking with ocean water.

Yassen took his time undressing himself. Unhurriedly pulling off his shirt, trousers, pants. Keeping his blue eyes locked on Alex, roaming his body as his breath got steadily heavier.

Alex shook with the effort of staying still, waiting. When Yassen finally crawled over top of him, Alex was left sighing with relief. Their chests pressed together - Alex felt the grit of salt between them, the slide of warm water.

* * *

/Yassen/

He kissed Alex long and hard, trailing his lips down Alex's jaw line, neck, chest. Alex had closed his eyes, lips parted, fingers white in the sheets. Yassen darted his tongue out, licking a droplet of water from Alex's waist.

His hand drifted lower, brushing against Alex's obvious hardness. He dipped his head down, tasting a different kind of salt on his tongue. Alex arched under him. He pressed down on Alex's hip, stopping him from bucking against his mouth.

He took Alex deep into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and sucking. Alex gasped, banging a hand against the headboard.

Yassen sucked and swallowed until Alex was moment's from completion, then pulled away, leaving his bed mate groaning in frustration. He moved up, reclaiming Alex's mouth. Their bodies slid against each other, warm and welcoming.

Alex was dripping water everywhere, and the thought crossed Yassen's mind that he would have to wash the sheets before they went to bed that night. But then, they would have needed to do that anyway, water or no.

His kisses started turning sloppy, half of them missing Alex's mouth entirely as he was lost to the rapid pace they had started on. Alex's mouth hung slightly open, not bothering to shut between the breathy kisses. Alex's hands roamed his body in a swirling pattern, like he was painting the waves on Yassen's torso.

The wandering hands landed in his hips, tracing the curves and angles. Fingers tightened, bruisingly, but Yassen was too far gone to notice.

Hands braces on either side of the beautiful boy beneath him, he finished hard, feeling the shudder go through Alex's body as he mirrored him.

In the aftermath, they were left with heaving chests as though they had swam to the bottom of the sea. The only sound that filled the small cabin was their gasping and their heartbeats.

* * *

It was later in the evening, the sun was nearing the horizon. Yassen was sitting on the porch swing, folding laundry and keeping an eye on the figure traversing the waves.

The tides had changed, calling Alex to grab his board and run into the surf. Waves crashed and retreated around him, Alex expertly navigating the crests.

Yassen smiled faintly, admiring the way the lowering sun bounced of his lovers golden body. Watching the way Alex twisted and turned, grabbing the board and putting it through actions that seemed impossible.

A huge mound of water appeared, barreling quickly. Alex took the challenge, crouching and driving his board through the tunnel the ocean had created. He disappeared from sight for a moment, only to reemerge on the other side.

Alex paddled around a little while longer, but the ocean had quieted. Yassen finished the laundry and crossed his legs to continue his watch.

Alex sat down on the board that was now bobbing calmly in the water, straddling it as he faced away from shore. Blond hair flashed red in the dying sun as Alex turned back, waving at Yassen. Beckoning.

He rose, abandoning his freshly folded garments and walking barefoot down the beach. When his feet hit the surf, Alex waved again, silently pleading for him to hurry.

He dove into the still warm waters, a few strong strokes bring him abreast with Alex. The boy was smiling down at him, offering a helping hand. Yassen was pulled gracefully from the water, maneuvering himself behind Alex, wrapping the boy in his arms.

Alex leaned back against Yassens chest, finding comfort there. The sun had hit its lowest point and would soon dip below view.

He kissed Alex's soft blond hair, noticing the way the tips had lightened in response to the sun. Alex intertwined their hands, letting them rest in front of him. Yassen ran a thumb idly over the bottom of Alex's ribs.

The sun went down, sinking out of existence as a nighttime tiredness overcame the pair. They sat their, floating on the edge of paradise, counting the stars as they appeared.

Lights flashed across the sky - like shooting stars or meteors, only slower. They knew people were still keeping an eye on them, knew they would always be at the center of someone's sights, but for the moment they were protected. Safe.

They were happy.

* * *

 **AN:**

I will be going away for spring break - all the way to Guatemala for a volunteer trip. I won't have much access to the internet, so I will not be posting in any of my stories until I get back. Hope this tides you through until then!

I also hope to return to plenty of reviews! Let me know what you think!


	20. Rest in Pieces

**Warnings:** slash relationship, kidnapping

 **Rated:** T

* * *

Sometimes Alex wished he was normal. Or if not normal, then at least capable of obtaining a sense of normality.

Vacation, holiday, retirement: all things that normal people can achieve. Alex on the other hand, got but a glimpse of this. Just a sneak peak.

A small sliver of paradise that was now a distant memory - swiftly replaced with scraped knees and putrid smells and the taste of bile at the back of his throat. Pleasant, right?

Alex was on his hands and knees, crawling forwards as quickly as he dared. He couldn't see and inch in front of him, swathed in darkness as he was.

It was terrifying, this blindness. Especially because he could hear the ominous sound of flowing water filling the enclosed space. It made orienting himself difficult, even with the wall to his right. It echoed around the tunnel.

He kept hurrying forwards, praying that he didn't put his hand in empty space and plummet into the rancid waters below.

He thought he was in a sewer - though as far as sewers went, Alex had thought it would smell worse. It wasn't daisies and roses, but it also wasn't intolerable. There was only a distant sound of scuttling rats, and the water flow seemed slow - less threatening than he had expected.

He kept on forward, following the curve of the stone wall. Slowly, the blackness became a little less black. A fuzzy grey, like the static of a television on standby. Then Alex could begin to make out the shape of his hands - indistinct, but better than nothing. He was pleased to observe that he still had all ten fingers. He looked forward and spotted a spot of light on the ground ahead, broken evenly with bars of shadow.

Reaching it, he found a drainage grate above his head. Through that, Alex could see open sky and moonlight. He craned his neck, trying to glimpse the surrounding area. Mostly his effort was futile, but if he pressed his face nice and close to the bars (rust scrapped his cheek, but he ignored that) he could just make out the glint of a chain link fence.

If Alex had kept is barrings well, and he was where he thought he was, then that meant he had successfully infiltrated the compound. If he had taken a wrong turn or gotten confused in the dark, then he was probably still on the wrong side of the fence, and then Yassen was as good as dead.

Well, only one way to find out.

Wrapping his fingers around the bars of the grate, he pushed with all his strength. Rust bit into his palms, but he dutifully ignored it. The cover gave way with a moan of protest and a rain of red dirt. Alex hastily shoved it off to the side.

He managed to climb out, wary that he was making quite the target of himself. Luckily it was dark enough and there were no patrols in the immediate area.

He replaced the bars and swiftly merged into the shadows, making his way towards the center building. Yassen should be there - maybe, hopefully - and Alex didn't know how much time he had.

Keeping low and swaying with the wind, he hoped he would fade into the shadows. He hadn't exactly been dressed for the occasion, but his clothes were dark enough to blend in anyway.

The progress was slow going - every second grated down on his nerves. Every second he spent in this field meant another second as a target and another second that Yassen could be… well, Alex tried not to think about what was happening to Yassen right now.

Eventually he reached the wall, leaning against it and breathing heavily - more from stress than anything.

The compound was huge, hideously so. The walls were cracked and crumbling and would be easy to climb - which is why the high tech electric fence had been their main defence, and Alex had bypassed that.

Hard part done then, Alex thought. All that's left now is to scale the building wall onto the roof, shimmy down the chimney to the first floor, get past the dozens of guards and evil henchmen that would no doubt be crawling all over the place, then find the single stairway to the basement, grab Yassen and get them both out.

Easy. Piece of cake, really.

Just one foot in front of the other.

Alex stood, pressed against the wall. A patrol would come by this side of the house soon, he knew. He needed to be out of sight. That in mind, he jammed his fingers into the highest hand hold he could reach, and he started climbing.

The rocks cut into his fingers, and loose pieces fell out around his shoes. If he looked too far up, the full moon blinded him. If he stopped to breathe, the wall started crumbling under his weight.

 _Cake._

Alex paused for a second, almost two floors high now. His breathing was shaky and his hands were raw and numb.

He shook his head, pushing these thoughts aside to keep climbing. But in the silence of the night, he heard an interruption.

The patrol. _Shit._

Not knowing what else to do, Alex pressed himself against the wall, as flat as possible. Taking one hand off the wall, he tugged his hood up, hoping to stop his blond hair from reflecting the moonlight.

He lowered his breathing, biting his lip to muffle any noises. He risked peering down, and caught sight of three burly figures rounding the corner.

Each had a gun slung over their shoulder, and Alex could just make out the shape of knives at their thighs.

None of that worried Alex much - the real problem was the night vision goggles.

If they looked up, it didn't matter how well Alex blended in, they would spot him.

 _Please don't look up._ _Please, please, please._

Alex didn't realize he was whispering his pleads out loud until he bit the inside of his cheek. He snapped his mouth closed, ignoring the metallic taste in his mouth, and continued his mantra quietly.

Some deity must have taken pity on Alex's dire situation, because by some miracle the patrol passed him by. Alex waited until the sound of footsteps faded, counted to ten, then kept climbing.

By the time Alex got to the top of the building he was shattered - his arm muscles were shaking and his toes were cramped from being jammed into the minuscule holds.

Alex dropped to his stomach, staying below the raised edge of the roof, and army crawled towards the top of the chimney. He reached it, but hesitated knowing that if he stood up, any patrol could glimpse him easily.

Deep breath. _Please don't look up._

Alex rose slowly and steadily, grabbing the rim and flipping his legs over. He dropped down, pressing his back against one wall and his feet against the other.

The rubber soles of his shoes slid slightly before catching on the brick. Soot rained down around him. Alex closed his eyes and tugged the collar of his shirt over his nose.

Then inch by inch, he made his way down the grime filled shaft.

He was three quarters of the way down when he heard it - yelling. Alex froze and tried to distinguish the words as the echoed hollowly up the chimney.

He didn't catch anything about an intruder, thankfully, and none of the voices appeared to belong to Yassen, so that was a good thing… probably.

The yelling seemed to be one way - half a conversation, like someone talking on a phone. Alex kept inching.

His back muscles ached and he had rubbed his skin to shreds. His ankles were flaring in pain and his legs were shaking with the effort of holding him up.

By the time he got to the bottom, he wanted nothing more than to drop onto the ashes and cinders of the fireplace and sleep until he too turned to dust. Instead, he held himself fast and listened for signs of life in the room.

The only voices he heard seemed to be coming from below him, in the basement.

 _Where have you been, Gregorovich?_

 _Who are you working for?_

 _Where's the other one?_

Alex knew an interrogation when he heard one. He also recognized the sound of flesh hitting flesh that accompanied each question.

Alex dropped to the ground and ducked into the room. He spilled soot everywhere, and knew he would have to move fast. Anyone that came into the room wouldn't fail to notice the mess.

He surveyed the room, trying to mentally conjure the image of the buildings layout. He had only had a few minutes to commit the plans to memory, but he was fairly certain that he knew the way.

He ducked into the hallway, glad that the lights in the building were all out.

The door he was aiming for was open, letting the unencumbered yelling filter up the stairs. Alex pressed himself against the wall in order to peer down the steps.

The stairs were cracked wood, and over the banister Alex could make out a nasty scene. Yassen was tied to a wooden chair, head bowed and blood dripping from his mouth. His cheeks were red, as if he was blushing. Two men stood above him, one with bloody knuckles, the other waving around a crowbar.

The man took turns yelling, one would shout a question in English, the other would repeat it in harsh Russian.

Yassen mostly stayed silent, occasionally muttering something that didn't sound like flattery. Sassing his captures? He'd learned that from Alex.

He was about to make a move when he heard footsteps down the hall. He glanced up, and saw three people wander into the room he had left. Alex winced, knowing that fireplace must be a dead giveaway-

"The hell with this mess?" A voice snapped.

"Probably Murphy trying to start a fire again, he's shit at it," Another voice scoffed in disdain.

Alex let out a sigh of relief, but it was cut off quickly.

"He's in the basement, yeah? Tell him to come up here, I'm sick of this shit."

Footsteps closing in. Alex flinched, knowing he had seconds to get out of sights.

Couldn't go back the way he came, and there was only open hall to the other side of him. Basement was a no go, obviously, but…

He looked up, coiled his muscles, and jumped. As quiet as possible he tugged himself onto the banisters of the ceiling. He just had time to cover his mouth and muffle his breathing before the door was opened fully and a woman slipped in.

She walked right under him. Down a few steps and snapped in Russian. The man with crowbar - Murphy - rolled his eyes and filled her up the stairs. They disappeared down the hall.

 _No one ever looks up, apparently._

Now odds were a little more even, with only one bad guy in the room. On the other hand, the others could come barreling down any second.

Alex swung down from the bannister, landing lightly on the steps. Nearly taking a tumble when the stair shifted beneath his weight.

The man didn't seem to notice, standing as he was with his back to the stairs, but Yassen glanced up. He caught Alex's eye, pupils dilating, then stared back at the ground.

Alex smirked, sauntering down the stairs unconcernedly. The other man was completely oblivious, but Yassen was stifling a smirk.

Alex reached the ground, made a show of looking around. He placed a hand on his chin, mimicking a pose of deep thinking. Yassen snorted in laughter, but played it off as a pained cough.

The crowbar that the other man had had was leaning against the bottom of the stairs. Alex picked it up, flipped it in his grip, and stepped closer to the man - who was still utterly unaware.

Holding the bar like a baseball bat, Alex pretended to line up the shot. Yassen was visibly biting his lip now to stop from laughing.

"Heads up," he whispered. Took just a second to watch the man's body tense, then swung at full whack. The man crumpled.

Yassen looked up, smiling through blood stained lips. Alex tossed the bar into Yassen's lap, then made quick work of the ropes binding him.

Yassen rose, rubbing his wrists and slipping the crowbar into the loop of his belt.

Alex nodded up the stairs and Yassen followed happily. They moved up the stairs silently, and Alex peered down the corridor. The only way out, he knew, was the room from which he entered. Naturally, that is also where all the baddies were converging.

He could hear them arguing, blaming each other for the mess. How dense were these people? Yikes.

Alex led Yassen down the darkened hall, wondering why the lights were still off. He looked around the corner of the room, the only light provided by a now simmering fire in the fireplace.

There were four people in the room, three of which must have come in from patrol. They were all still wearing their night vision goggles, oddly enough, which is probably why they hadn't bothered to flick a light switch.

The other man - Murphy - was blinking dumbly in the dark, unable to see but seemingly too chicken to mention this to his companions.

Alex frowned. They were blocking the way out - what an inconvenience. Eventually, Murphy decided to make a casual exit. The other three were still in a heated conversation as Murphy slipped towards the door.

Alex gestured for Yassen to back up. He hid behind the corner. Murphy appeared, eyes widening in surprise and mouth parting ever so slightly.

Then he was on the floor with a broken nose, and Alex had some bloody knuckles of his own.

The three other occupants of the room looked up at the commotion, but Alex was already diving past. He snatched up a burning stick from the fireplace, and spun around.

He lofted the stick up, swinging it in an arc. The three backed up, but he still got the desired effect. Their night vision goggles picked up on the burning branch, blinding them.

Then all three of them were on the ground in varying degrees of consciousness. Yassen hefted his crowbar, ready to swing again, but the other occupants of the room were truly down for the count.

The two of them shared a smile, then made for the door.

* * *

"You _reek_ Alex," Yassen stated, nose wrinkled in disgust. The man didn't look at him, keeping his eyes on the road as they drove away from the compound in a… liberated Jeep.

"Yeah? Well I may smell like shit, but you look it," Alex retorted.

Yassen laughed, taking one hand off the wheel and reaching over to touch Alex's knee. Alex covered the hand with his own.

"Guess we'll both need a shower when we get home, huh?"

* * *

 **AN:**

Don`t forget to drop a review!


	21. A Slippery Slope

**Warnings:** slash.

 **Rated:** T

* * *

Alex tucked his head low, enjoying the whistle in his ears and the biting wind on his face. The pure expanse of whiteness ahead of him begged to be marred, and Alex was more than happy to oblige, ripping over the fresh snow with merciless speed.

His trails scarred the snow behind him, leaving a clear path into the dense trees from which he had emerged. From the depths of the forest, Alex heard a shout. The words were indistinct, but the message was clear.

Alex banked left, expertly swinging his skis into a stop. Powder was sprayed in front of him, falling like confetti.

He stabbed his ski poles into the ground. They sunk a few inches into the snow layer before finding purchase on the frozen ground below. He looked back, mitted hands moving to remove his snow goggles, resting the protective wear on his forehead.

The tips of white skis appeared first, breaching the shadows of the forest and emerging in the clearings sun. They were quickly followed by a white clad body. Yassen came to a graceful stop next to him.

For a second, Alex looked at his reflection in Yassen's goggles - warped from the concave and distorted with rainbow colours. Then the goggles were shoved up and Alex was met with the much more interesting view of pale blue eyes, so reminiscent of the ice chips that surrounded them.

"You took a wrong turn," Yassen stated, gesturing back up the hill with his ski pole.

Alex frowned. "Down the hill, over the jump. Right path. Left at the fork. Right at the mile marker. Right at the next fork, then left again," Alex repeated the directions that Yassen had given at the start of the run, but Yassen was already shaking his head.

" _Left_ at the mile marker," the older man corrected.

"Oh. Right."

"No, left."

"No, I meant-" Alex laughed. "I meant 'right' like 'right', not 'right' like ' _right'_."

"You confuse me sometimes."

Alex rolled his eyes, examining the path he had carved. "Do we need to go back?" He asked, praying that the answer was no. They hadn't passed the marker too long ago, but Alex had been ripping the whole way down - it would be a long hike uphill.

Yassen noted the reluctance in his voice, pursing his lips in the way he did when delivering bad news.

Alex interrupted before Yassen could even utter a word. "Can't we just keep going downhill? Down is down, it all leads the same place."

Which of course wasn't true. There was a cottage mid-mountain where they were staying. If they didn't get on the right track, they would likely ski right past it. Alex knew that, and Yassen knew he knew that.

Also, he noted that the path he had been following cut off into a dead end at the bottom of this hill.

Yassen gave a pointed look and Alex sighed dramatically. He reached down to unclasp his skis. With hunched shoulders, Alex led the way back up the path.

They weren't a long way off from the path. Alex was focusing on his breathing. He was fit, but hiking up a mountain in a few feet of snow and weighed down with winter gear, downhill ski boots restricting his movement, skis slung over his shoulder, was about as tiring as it sounds. He was so zoned out, that it took him a second to recognize the sound of voices up ahead. By that time, Yassen was already a step ahead.

Just as he was turning to Yassen - a warning on his lips - the man was grabbing his upper arm and dragging back, deeper into the treeline. Alex tried to make as little noise as possible, scarcely daring to breathe.

Muffled voices drifted to them over the wind. "They're going pretty fast," one voice observed, "You don't think we'll lose 'em, aye?"

A derisive snort met that question. "Hardley. They're leaving a _trail_ , idiot. Look, it loops this way."

Alex glanced over his shoulder to where Yassen crouched behind him. They exchanged a few glances, an entire conversation embodied in looks.

Someone was following them. Multiple someone's. Alex doubted their intentions were innocent.

Alex sighed. They were supposed to be on _vacation._

Dropping his skis to the snow silently, Alex and Yassen quickley clasped their boots into the bindings. They had little choice but to try and outrun (out ski) their pursuers.

Ducking low, they disappeared into the foliage. Cutting back down the way they came, through the snow once again. Alex glanced back, knowing they were leaving a pretty obvious scene in their wake.

A set of tracks going down. A set of footprints backtracking, then coming to a halt not a few meters from those other men. And yet another set of tracks heading back down. If the men following them were even halfway competent, they would realize that they had been found out.

Most of his and Yassen's things were at the cabin - minus what they had with them. Alex was sure they could get some kind of evac at the bottom of the mountain, but that implied getting down there first.

And then there was the matter of the men following them. Alex hadn't seen what gear they had; maybe skis, but it could just as easily be a snowmobile or something else much faster than them. Or - if he was feeling optimistic, which he rarely was - they could be on foot.

Alex worried that they wouldn't be able to outrun these guys - not to mention that they were coming up on a dead end - so they would have to lose them another way.

"What are you doing?" Yassen hissed below his breath, coming to a screeching stop.

Alex had halted abruptly, reaching down to unclasp his ski boots.

"Undo them," Alex said, gesturing at Yassen's feet. He received one more confused look, then Yassen obeyed. They stood upright again, boots loose around their ankles. Yassen was giving him looks like he was mad.

Maybe he was.

Alex kicked off, continuing downhill. Skiing with unbuckled boots was a dangerous game, but luckily he and Yassen were above average at the sport.

Alex took the lead this time, trying very hard not to wipe out. Going head over heels with freed skis would be a disaster that they couldn't afford right now.

They re-entered the clearing from earlier and Alex saw his mark. A low hanging tree branch above a steep slope.

He signaled for Yassen to watch him, and took off towards the branch like a speeding bullet (Alex would know, he had a lot of experience with speeding bullets.)

Just as the branch was close enough to threaten Alex's well being, he jumped. Toes pointed, arms reaching high, he pulled himself free of his boots and into the tree.

His skis and boots careened down the hill, keeping balanced on the fresh snow. They cut little pathways down the hill before hitting a snowbank. They took off, same as if they had hit a jump, and disappeared out of sight.

Hands wrapped around the branch, knuckles tightened, and then Yassen was crouching next to him. Another set of skis disappeared down the hill.

"What's the plan now, genius?" Yassen asked - much too lighthearted for the potential danger they were in.

Alex smiled - as usual, he hadn't _totally_ thought this one through, but he figured he could make this work anyway. He shimmied towards the trunk of the tree, hopping lightly to the branches of a neighboring one. He repeated this process until he was deep into the woods, working his way horizontally to their previous path.

Eventually, he was forced to drop to the snow covered floor. This of course came with the reality of his now bootless feet. The little flakes around him melted, soaking into his socks. Yassen landed next to him, looking equally irritated at his damp feet.

"We'd better get back to the cabin," Yassen stated, "if we want to keep our toes, that is."

Alex nodded, but paused a second longer to listen back the way they'd come. No sound of a motor - which Alex had suspected. He was sure either him or Yassen would have noticed if their pursuers had had a snowmobile.

Instead, he heard the familiar scuff of skis on snow. That was good. If the men fell for their little false trail, it would put them a good ways down the mountain. They would have to removed their skis and hike back up once they realized the rouse. And then they would have to find their trail again.

It gave them a head start, at least.

They ran lightly on the slippery slope, trying to ignore the biting feeling at the tips of their toes. It seemed like a long time, but couldn't have been more than a few minutes before they drew level with a familiar mile marker.

There was no sign of their followers. From here, Yassen took the lead, looking a little grumpy but also kind of amused. Alex supposed this was familiar territory for both of them; not welcome territory, but familiar.

Yassen burrowed through some bushes, coming to the path that they had been supposed to take. They moved quickly now, back on a downhill track, and soon enough the roof of their cabin was visible over the treeline.

The lights in the cabin were out, the two front windows dark and ominous, like the eyes of the small log shelter were watching their approach. Him and Yassen exchanged a glance, aware that they would be at a disadvantage if someone was in the cabin, waiting to ambush them.

But there was nothing they could do about that if that was the case, so Alex shrugged philosophically and led the way inside.

They were in luck, the cabin was just as they had left it. Maybe the men searching for them were less competent that they had originally thought. Still, Alex was sure that their trail would be found eventually, leading the men to their cabin. They should be gone by then.

First things first, Alex stripped off his socks. His toes had gone distinctly pale, and he noted that they were also quite numb at this point. He opened a drawer in his dresser and pulled on a double layer of wool socks.

Yassen followed suit, tugging on boots as well before grabbing their emergency bag. He nodded to the back door and Alex followed him out into the snow again.

It would be easy going from here, Alex knew, as they had a white truck hidden in the tree line. While the interior was freezing, it was much preferable to trekking in the snow.

Yassen started the truck, maneuvering them out of the snow drift that had built around them and off roading it down the mountain. He tossed Alex the bag, and he took the hint to dig out the emergency cellphone.

A speed dial later and Alex had been assured that the 'situation' would be 'handled'. He didn't take too long to riddle out that one - he didn't really care.

They made their way off the mountain side and onto a main road.

As the inside of the truck began to warm up, Alex kicked his boots off and tucked his legs up. He moved to massage some feeling back into his toes, but realized that his hands had gone equally numb.

Somewhere along the way he seemed to have lost his gloves. He hadn't even noticed.

"Alright?" Yassen asked. Alex glanced up to see the assassin giving him sidelong glances of concern.

Alex tried for a smile, internally wondering if he had done something inadvertently horrible to himself.

"Fine," he answered. "Just a little numb."

Yassen nodded, checking his rear view mirror before pulling sharply off the road. Alex yelped in surprise as they halted overlooking a snowy outcrop.

Yassen shifted into park, wrenching up the emergency break before holding a hand out.

"Let me see," he demanded.

Alex obediently handed his hands over. Yassen flipped them frontways and back, examining them critically. Sure hands began rubbing smooth circles over his skin.

Alex sighed as the warmth was rubbed back into his muscles, accompanied by the stinging sensation of pins and needles. Yassen worked his way up Alex's arm, tugging the jacket off him for easier access.

"Do I need to do your feet too?" Yassen asked with a gesture.

The socks seemed to have done a good job there, his feet felt almost fine, but…

Alex nodded and Yassen ran his hands over Alex's feet. It almost tickled, and Alex suppressed a giggle.

"Actually," he said, drawing Yassen's attention. "A little higher."

Yassen tilted his head, but obliged, hands shifting to Alex's calf.

"Higher."

This time Yassen raised an eyebrow, apparently getting his meaning. He smiled and placed his hands lightly on Alex's upper thigh.

"You know, this would be more effective with clothes off," Yassen stayed nonchalantly. "For medical purposes."

Alex nodded seriously. "Yes, I've heard that."

And Yassen's hand drifted up his shirt, pulling the material up over his head. Alex tried not to bang his hands on the roof.

He reached over and unzipped Yassen's ski jacket, shucking it off with the sweater quickly following suit. He tucked his hand down Yassen's trousers, and the man shifted, jumping the center console to straddle Alex on his seat.

Alex laughed and grabbed the lever by his side, reclining his seat all the way back. Yassen followed him down, stripping off trousers and pants until they were both down to their woollen socks.

Might as well make the most of what little vacation they had left.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought!

As always, I am still taking plot suggestions and prompts for this story, or any other ones. Fresh idea's are very helpful.


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